Book 44 - Where Are We Now?
by GailDunn2
Summary: VIOLENCE, ADULT SITUATIONS. The shocking revelations about a family massacre send the humans and Angels far from home. The journey to discover an ancient secret is perilous, and not all of the Christmas surprises are welcome ones.


BOOK 44 - WHERE ARE WE NOW?

FROM RUSSIA, WITH LOVE

Chapter 1 - Looking For Zebras

They all stood in the living room area of Nicole's house, stunned into silence after the ghost of her grandmother had disappeared so abruptly.

Finally, Frank said, "OK, what in the holy hell was THAT?"

"You're a Hunter, aren't you?" Gail said, straight-faced. "I know it's been a while since you've seen one, but...that was a ghost."

"My grandmother is Tatiana Romanov," Nicole said, her voice trembling. "It's unbelievable. But I wonder why she appeared to us as a young woman, though. She said she survived the massacre, and I remember my grandmother as a much older woman."

"Sometimes, the corporeal manifestation takes the form of how the person would have looked at the time of a pivotal moment in their lives," Sam advised. "And based on the story she just told us, that's perfectly logical."

"Oh." Nicole was still dazed. "What a horrible thing for her to have to go through." Dean gave her a squeeze.

"But hey, on the bright side, you're a member of the Russian Royal Family," Frank said. "Maybe you could hook me up? Free caviar? A few cases of vodka?"

Dean glared briefly at Gail's brother, but Nicole laughed. "I highly doubt it," she said, "but I'll look into it, and see what I can arrange."

"Rasputin," Sam mused aloud. "She knew Rasputin."

Dean was staring at Cas now. "What do you know that you're not telling us?" he asked his Angel friend suspiciously.

Cas said nothing for a moment. He was still trying to process this whole thing, himself. Rasputin was still alive? Not only that, but Tatiana was saying that he had achieved his goal of immortality? Cas would have never thought that was possible. But now, the part of his mind that was still Castiel, the General of Heaven's army, took over. If Rasputin had indeed unlocked the secret, might he be able to help them defeat Vincent? What could be done, could be undone. The only thing was, why would Grigori Rasputin want to assist the Angel who had tried so hard to end his life in 1916? Castiel had thought that they had finally succeeded in dispatching the "mad monk", as Rasputin had disparagingly been nicknamed back then. He supposed he should have known better, though. Tatiana had spoken about the man as if he were a Saint, but she was obviously biased. She didn't know Rasputin the way that Castiel knew him. And why had Tatiana left this house so abruptly, so fearfully? As far as Cas knew, the only way a ghost could be frightened away like that was by the presence of another ghost, a malevolent one. This troubled him. There was more to the story, he was sure. He was lost in thought now, trying to figure out what that might be. The irony was completely lost on him.

But it wasn't lost on Dean, who cleared his throat. "Cas? You wanna join us, here?"

"I'm sorry, Dean, I was woolgathering," Cas said absently.

Dean took a breath and then let it out, trying valiantly to be patient. "OK, well...?" he said, gesturing with his hands.

"Well...what?" Cas inquired, stalling for time.

Dean closed his eyes. Bobby, give him strength. "Well? What do you know?"

Cas was silent again. He was very reluctant to broach the subject in front of Nicole. Dean's girlfriend was still a novice when it came to otherworldly beings, and he could see that she had been shaken by the revelations she had just received, and the terrible story of the Romanov family massacre. It was a terrible story regardless, but made even more so by the fact that they had been Nicole's family. It was a lot to take in, all at once.

But Dean had reached the end of his patience. "I'm about two seconds away from calling Bobby, and having him read your mind," he snapped at Cas. "Either that, or he can just smite the crap out of you. Right now, I'm good either way."

"Don't be like that, Dean," Gail berated him. "Give him a second, will you?"

"Stow it, Mrs. Buzzkill," Dean shot back. "Bottom line, Cas: is Nicole in any danger, here?"

"We've got kids sleeping upstairs too, Cas," Frank said with a bit of an edge to his voice now. "If there's anything we need to know, you'd better spill it."

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn't his voice that they heard next.

"You have nothing to fear from us," a female ghost said.

Nicole's eyes widened. Another spirit had materialized now; an older woman. This one, she recognized. It was the woman she'd always thought of as her grandmother, Victoria Buxhoveden. Or, was it?

"Please don't be angry, my dear," Victoria said to Nicole. "I know that you must be very confused, right now. I also know that your real grandmother has been here to see you, and she appeared to you as the young woman she had been when she was in my charge. I am appearing to you now as she looked when she was a much older woman, so that you would not be even further confused.. I know that she told you she took my name, after the horrors of that day. She was, understandably, very frightened. She was never supposed to live. If anyone had found out about her true identity, she would have been hunted down, and killed." Victoria hung her head. "Their deaths were partly my fault. I was being courted by a soldier in the Bolshevik army. Pitr and I were in love, or so I thought. He warned me that there were plans to overthrow the Tsar, but that there would be no danger to any of the children. It was merely politics, he told me. Nothing to concern myself about. Foolishly, I believed him. Now I know that he was either lying, or maybe he was just too afraid to stand up to the others."

Nicole still felt terrible about the whole business, but she was also starting to get angry, now. "OK, exactly how many Grandma Ghosts ARE there in this house?" she quipped, though it was through clenched teeth. "I think I'm going to have to start charging you guys a group rate."

Frank laughed. "Up top, Dean's girlfriend," he said, extending his hand for a high-five. She looked at him for a second, then slapped his hand. What the hell.

"I understand how you must feel," Victoria said in a subdued tone. "But I was hoping to let you know how I feel, as well. I loved the Romanov children, especially my little Tanushka, and I respected her parents' position. But, where was MY justice? As their servants, we were slaughtered right alongside the Romanovs, but the only thing anyone ever talks about is the Romanovs! I tried to call attention to the injustice I'd suffered at those soldiers' hands by moving the coffins in our family vault. Then, when that didn't work, I stood your grandmother's cedar chest on end. But I had no idea how to communicate with you, otherwise. Something always stopped me from being able to appear to you."

Suddenly, Gail snapped her fingers. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, looking at Frank. "'Odd Planet'!"

He was puzzled. "Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Odd Planet!" she repeated, as if that clarified things. "The Mystery of the Moving Coffins! Remember? That story creeped me out!" Then, realizing how that must have come across, Gail looked at Victoria sheepishly. "Sorry."

Nicole sighed. It was late, and she'd had her fill of ghosts coming in here with sad stories. "Look," Dean's girlfriend said wearily. "I understand; I really do. But you've got to understand that I have a life to live, here. I'm converting this place into a Bed and Breakfast establishment, and I don't really want my guests to run out of here screaming before they pay the bill! So, let's bottom line it, please: Is there any way that you ladies can be convinced to just...move on?"

"That's not up to us," Victoria responded.

"Spirits are tethered to an Earthly location for a reason," Sam chimed in. "Usually they can move on, if there's some kind of closure."

Nicole let out a frustrated breath. "Well, I don't know how THAT's supposed to happen, unless we go back in time and save the Romanovs and their servants."

It was probably out of sheer reflex that Dean looked at Cas, then. But his Angel friend shook his head, almost imperceptibly. Thankfully, Dean didn't pursue the notion. If he had, Cas would have had to tell him that it was completely out of the question. Absolutely, and completely. Cas felt a great deal of sympathy for the murder victims, of course; they had largely just been pawns, caught up in a political chess game. But that couldn't be helped, not this many years after the fact. There had been many, many injustices in the annals of history. It was not their place to go back and change things that had already occurred.

Unbeknownst to any of them was the fact that they had recently attempted to do that very thing, when they had gone to Africa to get the Book of Life. As far as any of them were concerned, the trip to Kilimanjaro had never happened, nor had any of the subsequent events. When God had finally taken mercy on His children and given Castiel the final page of the Book, they had all gone back to square one. But, even though Cas was unaware that there had been a lesson learned, he had obviously learned the lesson. There would be no discussion about going back in time to right any wrongs, as egregious as they may be.

Sam was looking thoughtful. "I think there's got to be a lot more to it than we know about," he mused aloud. "As horrible as what happened to your family was, ghosts usually hang around for a reason. Of course we can't turn back the clock and change history, but there's got to be an unresolved issue still on the table."

"Rasputin," Cas said suddenly, and everyone looked at him.

"Well, well, how about that. It speaks," Dean said sarcastically.

Cas sighed. "It's late, and all of you must be very tired. Why don't we talk about all of this in the morning, once everyone has a chance to rest? I promise you that I will tell you everything I know, then."

Frank nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'm bagged." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. Gail's brother thought that Dean was unnecessarily hard on Cas, sometimes. Then again, Frank's history with Castiel and his Angelic evasion and lack of communication skills was much more brief than the Winchesters'.

But even the brothers were ready to capitulate now, and pack it in for the night. Now that Cas had mentioned how tired they all must be, they all felt tired. The humans were yawning widely now.

"Let me show you to the rooms I had fixed up, for the guests," Nicole said, nudging Sam and Frank. She glanced at Dean.

"I'll be right up," he told his girlfriend. She paused for a beat, then led the other men up the stairs.

"Don't yell at him," Gail warned Dean, but the elder Winchester put his hands up in supplication. "Stand down, Cujo," Dean said to her. She glared at him as he looked at Cas and sighed. "Look, Cas, I'm not being 'that guy'. It's just...you guys know how I feel about Nicole. I just want to make sure she's not in any real danger, here. We all know there's more to the story than Granny and the Nanny are telling us. Right?"

Gail's lips twitched. She couldn't help it. "'Granny and the Nanny'? Frank is going to be really mad that he didn't think of that first."

"We'll talk in the morning," Cas said again. "Gail and I will be here all night, remaining vigilant. But I see no immediate danger; at least, nothing that four Hunters and two Angels wouldn't be able to handle. All right, Dean?"

Dean made no reply for a moment. But then he nodded. "Yeah. OK, Cas." He turned to leave, and Gail cleared her throat. Dean turned back around. "'Cujo'?" she said, hands on her hips. "Really?"

There was silence for a beat, and then Dean laughed. "Goodnight," he said, and then he headed upstairs.

Gail had been sorely tempted to pump her husband for information once everyone else had gone to bed. She knew Cas, and so she knew that he knew a great deal about the situation that he had not disclosed. But she also knew how much he loved Dean, and now Nicole, by extension. So she knew that he would never deliberately withhold information that would put their human friends in harm's way.

For Cas's part, he had been waiting for his wife to start asking him questions. He wouldn't blame her if she did; he knew he had been quite enigmatic about the entire situation. But when she sat down beside him on the couch and took his hands, she simply wrapped his arms around her and said, "Let's snuggle."

So they sat there in silence for a while, enjoying the serenity, and the physical contact with one another. Cas reached up and snagged a fleece blanket that Nicole had draped on the back of the couch, and he covered them with it.

They spent the rest of the night into the morning like that, and except for the occasional lighthearted comment or term of endearment exchanged, they passed the time in companionable quiet. Then, when the morning came, Gail gave her husband a soft kiss and slipped out of his arms, in search of a coffeemaker.

A short while later, their human friends came downstairs. Barry, Mike and Carolyn had a quick cup of coffee, and then they asked the Angels if one of them could take them and their kids home. Gail had offered breakfast, but the adults said not to bother. So hugs and kisses were exchanged, and Cas popped them all back to British Columbia.

Frank asked Rob quietly if his son could make Angela breakfast, once Cas took them home. He wanted to know what Cas was going to tell them all about Rasputin. This might be a unique opportunity to get some insight into a notorious historical figure, and Frank didn't intend to miss it. He promised his son that he would share some highlights with him later, out of Angela's earshot, of course.

Being a Hunter and also a student of history, Rob was pretty bummed out that he wouldn't be able to be privy to the actual conversation. As Nicole, Dean and Sam were talking to Angela, keeping the little girl distracted, Rob and his dad had been having their little chat. The young man had slept soundly the night before, satisfied with the job they'd done on that Wendigo. Rob had kept a close eye on his sister, but she had fallen asleep with the ease and abruptness of a child her age, and as far as Rob knew, his little sister hadn't had any nightmares about the monster scare of the night before. She had merely hopped out of bed in the morning, run over to where Rob had been sleeping in his bed, and shaken him, to wake him up. But her brother had already been awake, and thinking about breakfast.

Angela and Rob went with Cas when he got back, and Gail stayed at Nicole's house to help with the breakfast preparations. She was beginning to get the feeling that they might hear some upsetting things, and so their human friends could probably use the sustenance.

Once they all sat down at the kitchen table and Nicole, Sam, Frank and Dean began to eat, Cas settled back into his seat. He glanced at Gail, first. She was bringing the coffee carafe to the table, joking that she wanted to smell it before the humans started drinking it.

Gail returned Cas's look. His expression was tense; apprehensive. Her heart went out to him, and she took his hand and gave it a squeeze as she sat in the chair beside his.

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but instead of talking about Rasputin or the Romanov family, he asked Nicole, "Was your parents' automobile accident ever investigated?"

Her hand paused in the act of buttering a slice of toast, but Dean's girlfriend nodded. "Yeah, it was, Cas. It was a drunk driver, not the Bolsheviks," she quipped dryly.

Cas's mouth tightened, but he said nothing for a minute. Then, he sighed. "I will tell you what I know about Grigori Rasputin, and about my personal dealings with him," he began. "But I have no knowledge of your family situation, Nicole. And I have no idea what the missing piece of the puzzle is, when it comes to the hauntings here in the house."

"That's OK, we'll figure all that out," Sam said to Dean's girlfriend, nodding at her encouragingly. "We're here to help you. It's what we do."

Nicole gave him a quick smile. She realized she was very lucky to have this group of people in her life.

"So: Rasputin. Go," Dean said to Cas, chewing on a piece of bacon.

Cas gave Gail's hand a gentle squeeze, and then he began to speak. "As you are all probably aware, Grigori Rasputin was a Russian mystic, and a self-proclaimed holy man. He was reportedly born to a peasant family in a Siberian village in the mid-to-late 1800s. The human man may well have been, but the Angel who inhabits the man's vessel now is a much more ancient being."

"Rasputin is an Angel?" Frank asked his brother-in-law, astonished.

"He is now," Cas confirmed. "I'm not sure exactly when Anthony took possession of him. It was likely during one of Rasputin's religious pilgrimages. As you all know, Angels can only inhabit a human vessel with that individual's consent. Rasputin reported a 'religious conversion experience' after having visited a monastery in the late 1800s. At that time, people began calling him a holy man. He called himself a 'strannik', which means 'wanderer'. Anthony was new to Earth and to human ways, but he obviously learned very quickly how to take advantage."

Cas had a tone of bitterness in his voice now. "It's Angels like Anthony who give the rest of us a bad name," he stated with a frown. "He was an opportunist and a social climber, even in Heaven. But then, when he discovered that he could never achieve Exalted status in Heaven, he opted instead to possess a young, vulnerable Russian man, who was only asking for spiritual enlightenment."

"That's pretty crappy, Cas," Sam remarked.

"Don't you think I know that?" Cas said angrily. There was silence for a minute, and then he went on: "Anthony's movements as Rasputin were being monitored, supposedly. I had other concerns, at the time. Anthony made the acquaintance of church and social leaders in the Russian hierarchy, and he began acting as a healer for the Tsar's son Alexei, Tatiana's brother, who suffered from hemophilia. I guess that fact alone wasn't enough to alarm the members of the Upper Echelon."

"The Upper Echelon?" Gail asked her husband, startled.

Cas nodded. "Yes. I guess Xavier and his cronies were simply too busy worrying about their own status in the hierarchy of Heaven to do their jobs properly. Anthony was allowed to ply his trade, unchecked. At first it seemed as if his intentions were mainly noble, but then over time, he became more and more of a divisive figure. Some people thought that he was a mystic prophet, while others thought of him as a charlatan. Truth be told, he was both. But, as so many others have before, and since, he let Earthly ways and pleasures go to his head. Anthony had always aspired to a higher station in Heaven, and so once he found himself a respected and revered member of the Royal Court, he became enamoured of his influence on the Romanovs. Many speculated that he was also enamoured of the Tsarina, Alexandra. Tongues began to wag about the two of them when Tsar Nicholas visited the armies who were fighting at the front, during World War I. Despite the gossip, their influence and popularity with the Russian people grew, until Russia's defeats in the Great War began to mount. Then public opinion began to turn against them, and only then was I called upon to step in and resolve an issue which should have been resolved the instant that Anthony possessed Rasputin."

Cas's eyes flashed. As he spoke, he became more and more furious. How many more lives could have been saved, had he been sent to dispatch Anthony years earlier, before the Angel had had the chance to use his influence to have all of those young men killed in the War?

"By the early 1900s, Rasputin was reported to have developed a small circle of acolytes, with whom he held secret prayer meetings," Cas continued, tight-lipped. "The villagers were very suspicious of those sessions. It was reported that his female followers were ceremoniously washing him, before every meeting."

Frank snickered, and Cas gave him a baleful look. "Come on, Cas, that's funny," Gail's brother insisted.

"Will you still find it funny if I tell you that the villagers also reported the chanting of strange words, coming out of those meetings? That there were reports of orgies, and ritualistic behaviour? And that those same villagers began to fall ill and suffer misfortune after misfortune, after their eavesdropping of those meetings was discovered?" Cas said through clenched teeth. "And would you still find it funny if I told you that Rasputin was accused of bribery, religious heresy, and even rape, by the Holy Synod of the Orthodox Church? And, when asked for his defense, he claimed that yielding to temptation was necessary, in order to proceed to repentance, and subsequent salvation!"

The humans exchanged glances. What the hell? Suddenly, Anthony the Angel wasn't sounding like such a holy man any more, was he?

"Witch? Demon?" Dean said curtly.

"I'm not certain we could categorize it, at this point," Cas replied. "There was most certainly witchcraft being practiced, but I have no idea where an Angel would have learned those rituals. Unless he had a partner, or a mentor. In any event, Rasputin's central doctrine became 'attaining divine grace through Sin'. Needless to say, this displeased God to the extent that He finally called on me to end Anthony's existence on Earth, once and for all. A human woman had actually attempted to murder him two years prior to that by stabbing him in the stomach, but of course, he did not perish. But then, a group of nobles tried to assassinate him by offering him tea, cakes, and wine, that had been laced with cyanide. Once they saw that he showed no reaction to having been poisoned, the main conspirators met outside in the courtyard, in order to determine how they should proceed next. One of the men prayed for God's strength to end Rasputin's life. Based on that prayer, I was able to enter him. We went back into the house and the other men shot him in the head and chest at close range, while I drew my blade and stabbed him in the chest. There was a bright flash of light, and then I saw his essence emerge from him. I know I did. I saw it, with my own eyes. Then we wrapped the vessel in a shroud, and then we dropped it into the Malaya Nevka River. It was recovered the next day. Rasputin's body was pulled from the water. The vessel was well and truly dead."

"Well, Cas..." Sam said hesitantly, "if you saw this Angel's...Anthony's...essence come out of Rasputin's vessel when you stabbed him with your blade, couldn't he have just gone into another vessel?"

"No," Cas said quickly. "No. Absolutely not. That's out of the question."

"You heard what Cas said," Frank piped up. "An Angel has to get permission to enter somebody. So, even if this guy's stuff came out of the body when they were killing him..."

"The Angel should be dead," Gail finished for her brother. "That's the way it works. I've seen it. He should be gone."

"Then how come Grandma Ghost said that Rasputin is still alive?" Dean said, gulping some coffee.

They all sat in silence for a moment, thinking. What now? Where did they go from here?

"Is that it?" Nicole asked Cas. "Is that the whole story?"

"Yes, it is, Nicole," he said, nodding. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to shed any light on your family history. What I told you about was my only connection to events which unfolded in that time frame."

Gail glanced at her husband. "OK, well, you know what?" she said to the others. "I'm tired, and I want a shower. Cas and I are going home, and then we'll talk some more, later on. Sam, do you think you can fire up the computer and get a bit of a background on this whole Royal family/Rasputin deal?"

Cas frowned. But then, he added, "Maybe you can look into the Trans-Siberian Express, as well." He looked at Dean. "Are you going to stay here with Nicole?"

"We'd planned on spending the day together," Nicole answered for the couple. "I have to be back on set, tomorrow. Actually, I was going to ask if one of you could get me back to Vancouver tomorrow morning, if it's not too much trouble. I've gotten kind of spoiled on the Angel Uber system," she added, smiling. But then her smile faded as she looked around the room. "Now I'm wondering if I should cancel the contractors, though. They're supposed to be here tomorrow, to continue the renovations. But now that we know there are ghosts here - "

"They weren't exactly the world's scariest ghosts," Dean remarked, putting his arm around her. "I don't think you should worry about it. We'll figure out what their deal is, and then, we can lay them to rest for good."

Sam was nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it didn't seem like they were angry, or vengeful," he commented. "I think they just wanted you to know the full story." He looked at the Angels. "Can you guys take me to the bunker on your way home?"

"Sure, Sam," Cas said. He and Gail rose from their seats as Sam went upstairs to get his overnight bag. Cas looked at Nicole with compassion. "I know that all of this must have been very difficult for you to hear, and to process," he said to their friend. "Please know that we will do anything we can to help you."

"I know that, Cas," she said. "Thanks." Nicole gave him an impulsive hug.

Gail poked Frank. "Let's go, guy. You're coming, too."

"I'm not finished eating yet," he protested.

"You're never finished eating," she said, smirking. "Too bad. Let's go. You can hop on with Sam. Isn't your car still at the bunker, anyway?"

Frank sighed, putting his fork down. "Yeah, OK. I guess I should spend some time with my kids, today. Angela goes back to school tomorrow, and I have no idea what Rob's plans are. Think of me, slaving away behind a hot mess of paperwork at City Hall, while you guys are hobnobbing with the Russian Royal family in Siberia, or wherever you end up going. But if I don't get at least one picture of a bear riding a unicycle, or a lineup to get toilet paper, I'm gonna be very disappointed in you."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Could you possibly be any more stereotypical?"

"I dunno, but I could certainly use the money," Frank wisecracked, paraphrasing a line from his sister's favourite baseball movie.

She laughed. How could she not? He was just too funny.

"Russia is a beautiful country, filled with rich history and marvellous architecture," Cas stated stiffly.

"OK, settle down, 'Dmitri'," Frank said, raising his hands in supplication.

Gail was looking around the kitchen now, as Sam and Frank were gathering their belongings. "If you guys are finished eating, I can clean up, if you want," she said to Nicole.

"No, that's okay," Dean advised. "You guys go ahread. We'll take care of it."

Gail flashed him a grin. It sounded to her as if someone was eager to be alone with someone else. That was all right; she could relate. Ordinarily, she might have teased him about it, but it had been a big day the day before, a long night, and a lot for Nicole to have to deal with in a short period of time. There would be lots of time for jokes later.

Frank felt no such restraint, of course. "So long, Your Majesty," he said to Nicole, once he and Sam were ready to leave. "Don't forget the free vodka."

But then Frank opened his arms and Nicole gave him a hug, laughing at the same time. Frank, she thought. He was definitely one of a kind.

Goodbyes were exchanged amongst the others, and then Cas and Gail winked Sam and Frank away.

Dean and Nicole stood there, looking at each other.

"Well, that was...interesting," Nicole said to her boyfriend, still a little dazed.

He came to her. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine," she said, sighing. "That's what I get for working on a show called 'Supernatural', and hanging around with a bunch of Hunters and Angels, I guess."

"You want to clean up, now?" Dean said tentatively.

Nicole put her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. "Nope," she said softly.

Dean grinned.

Gail walked her brother out to the garage at the bunker. "That was pretty wild, wasn't it?" she said to him.

"Which part?" he quipped lightly. "The Wendigo? Nicole, the Queen of Russia? The undead Boney M guy? Or Dean, offering to do the dishes?"

Gail laughed. "You're right. All of it," she said.

"So, are you gonna tell me what your husband has to add to the story, once you worm it out of him?" Frank inquired.

Gail looked sharply at her brother. "How did you know?"

He gave her an indulgent look. "Please. I love my brother-in-law, but this isn't my first rodeo with him."

She gave him a thin smile. "You know, he doesn't really mean to be so evasive. He just..."

Frank grinned. "Hey, it's OK. I know Cas is a solid guy. He's just wired a little differently than we are. Besides, I'm feeling sorry for him, in advance. You're gonna kick his ass when you get him home, aren't you?"

"Not necessarily." Gail was reflective. Like all of the other principals involved, she had no recollection of their ill-fated trip to Kilimanjaro, or the hard lessons they had learned there about trying to change the past. Still, she was inclined to give Cas a break in this case, even if he wasn't exactly divulging the full truth about what had happened with Rasputin. And she knew that he was holding something back. She could see it in his eyes.

"Give me a hug," Frank said. "I've gotta go."

As the brother and sister were embracing, Sam's cell phone rang. He and Cas were standing in the library area of the bunker. Sam put his bag down on the floor and answered his phone.

"Hi, Sam, it's Becky. When are you coming to see Brian?"

Gail and Cas were back home now. She had really wanted to have a shower and change clothing, and as it turned out, so did he.

When Cas came out of the shower, he had been hoping to find his wife waiting for him in the bedroom. It had been a while since the two of them had had the opportunity to be intimate. But she was in the living room instead, sitting on the couch.

He could tell by the way she was looking at him that she knew he had not disclosed the full story. So Cas sighed, sitting down on the couch beside her.

Surprisingly, before Gail had the chance to say anything, her husband said, "I honestly thought I had killed Anthony. If I'd had any doubt, I would not have gone back to Heaven. But now, I realize I should have known better. I just never thought..." Cas cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, my love. Let me go back, a bit. When I knew Anthony in Heaven, he had his good and bad qualities, as we all do. What he became once he went to Earth was truly terrible, but he wasn't always that way. Before he let the search for power and standing corrupt him, Anthony was an introspective individual, who seemed to wrestle with many of the same questions as many of us do. We used to talk about philosophy, and ethics. What was our larger purpose? We were there to serve God, of course, but was there more to it than that? If we were being rewarded by being Angels of the Lord and doing His works, did that mean that we were Godlike, by extension? His questions bordered on blasphemy, but because our conversations were private, I never divulged the content of them to anyone else. He and I were more alike than different, at that point. He brought up the subject of immortality, on more than one occasion. Could such a thing be achieved, and if so, would it be a blessing, or a curse? I was under the impression that our discussions were merely philosophical in nature, but now I see that he must have had an agenda, even back then."

Gail was staring at her husband. "Wow," she breathed. "I don't even know what to say about that, right now." She thought for a second. "On second thought, yes, I do. When do we leave for Russia?"

Cas smiled gently. "Have I told you lately how much I love how supportive of me you are?"

"Have I told YOU lately how sexy you were as Tarzan?" she countered, lifting an eyebrow.

Cas laughed. She had completely disarmed him. She'd known he was feeling guilty about Anthony and the offences he'd committed, even though none of them had been Cas's fault, and there was no way he could have forseen to what lengths the Angel would go.

"It wasn't my fault," Cas said softly, as if he was reading his wife's mind. "There was no way I could have forseen what he was going to do."

Gail's heart leapt. This was the first time she could ever remember Cas saying something like that. Usually, he took the blame for everything on his shoulders, as if it were his due. And sure, some things actually were his faukt. But a lot of things weren't, too.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm so happy to hear you say that, sweetie! That's a real breakthrough," she told him.

Cas smiled. Yes, it was. He was proud of himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Care to help me celebrate?" he asked his wife.

She appeared to consider. "Well, I'm not sure if we have the ingredients to bake a cake, but I could pop over to a bakery, if you want to wait here."

Cas's arms tightened around her. "I have a much better idea," he told Gail.

An hour later, they were laying in bed, in each other's arms. Gail had to admit that she'd missed their intimate time together. A lot. They loved their family, but..."It's been way too long," she said, kissing Cas on his chest.

He was stroking her hair. "I completely agree," he said, sighing contentedly. "In fact..." He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing his cell phone. "I'm going to call Dean and tell him that we'll be here, until Nicole is ready to go back to Vancouver."

"HERE, here?" Gail said, her lips twitching.

"Yes," Cas confirmed. "HERE."

"Sounds good to me," she said, snuggling against him.

The next morning, Cas and Gail took Nicole and Dean to Nicole's apartment in Vancouver, waiting discreetly outside while their friends said goodbye to each other.

A few minutes later, Dean came out to the sidewalk in front of Nicole's building. "She said to keep her in the loop," he told the Angels. "Depending on what we find out, she said she might want to take a leave of absence from work, if we're going to Russia." He looked at Cas. "ARE we going to Russia?"

"Let's talk about it at the bunker," Cas said. They moved with Dean to the blind spot around the corner, and winked out.

But the trio were surprised when they reappeared in the library area of the bunker and that Sam wasn't there.

"I'll tell Sammy to get his lazy ass out of bed," Dean said with a smirk. He walked down the corridor, carrying his overnight bag. "Sammy!" he called out. "Sammy! Wake up! Chop chop! Research time!"

But Dean re-emerged a couple of minutes later, and he was alone. "He's not here," he told the Angels.

"Oh," Cas said. He looked around vaguely. Where could Sam be? He was almost always here, when research needed to be done.

Gail shrugged. "OK, well, let's get on the computer, then," she said, taking her usual seat at the table.

Cas and Dean looked at each other uncertainly. This was unfamiliar ground. Gail made an impatient sound. "Come on, you guys!" she exclaimed. "We're intelligent people, with laptops. We can do this."

As the men sat down, Gail gestured to Dean. "Here. Slide Sam's laptop over to me. Cas and I will look up Rasputin and the Royal family, and you can look up the Trans-Siberian Express."

"The what what?" Dean said, pushing Sam's computer across the table.

"It's a train, Dean. The Trans-Siberian Express," Cas said patiently. "Depending on what we find, where we have to go, and if Nicole is going to come with us, that would probably be the most efficient way to go." He looked at Gail. "And it's a very romantic and picturesque way to go, too. It'll be snowing by now, through the mountain passes."

"Oh, goodie," Gail said, clapping her hands together. "My kind of weather. Finally."

Dean was tempted to roll his eyes, but then it occurred to him that if Nicole came along, it could be an opportunity for the two of them to have a romantic trip, too. He opened up his laptop.

"Find out about First-Class accommodations," Cas said absently. "They'll be more spacious, with bigger beds, and cabinets, for our clothing."

"Clothing? I thought you said it was gonna be romantic," Dean wisecracked.

"Ewwww," Gail said, making a face. "And, might I add, well played."

"Do you need Sammy's password, there, Jane?" Dean quipped, referring to Gail's Hallowe'en costume.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Do you think I don't know Sam's password? I'm already in." She grinned slyly. "And, just so you know, Tarzan knows yours."

Dean did a double-take, and then he looked at Cas, who looked back at him calmly. Meanwhile, Gail was searching Google for entries about Grigori Rasputin. Predictably enough, there were quite a few. Despite Frank's jokes about Boney M, almost everyone who had even a casual nodding acquaintance with notorious historical figures would know a little something about Rasputin. Gail remembered reading about him when she was younger, and now that she thought about it, she remembered that it was in the context of people who had been hard to kill. "There was a guy named...wait, I'll get it..."she said aloud, thinking furiously. Then it came to her. "Michael O'Malley, I think it was. I remember that story. I remember reading about a Top Ten list of people in history who were hard to kill. Rasputin was one, and so was this O'Malley guy. He was a barfly who came into this place every night and got loaded. That was back in the days when anybody could take out an insurance policy on anybody, so a group of the bar regulars took out life insurance on the poor guy, and then they tried to kill him. They gave him wood alcohol instead of booze, but apparently, he loved it. So then they tried to get him falling-down drunk and when he passed out, they turfed him out in the snow and stripped him to his underwear, figuring he'd die of exposure. But he came into the bar the next night as if nothing had happened, and asked for some more of that great-tasting liquor."

Dean was staring at her with a disgusted look on his face. "What?" Gail said to him.

Dean shook his head. "You know, every now and then, I remember you grew up with Frank. How old were you when you read about that? Eleven?"

She considered. "Yeah, probably. Why?"

Dean snorted with derision. "Never mind. So, did they ever kill the poor bastard, or not?"

Gail thought for a moment. "You know what? I don't remember." She peered at the computer screen. "I could Google it, and find out."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "That is the stupidest, most pointless thing I've ever heard," he remarked in a long-suffering voice. "And I live with Sam."

Gail opened her mouth to make a scathing retort as Dean's cell phone rang. "Oh, thank God," Dean said loudly. He snatched up the phone. "Sammy! Wherever you are, get your ass home and rescue me from research hell!"

Dean listened for a moment, and his frown deepened. "Well, when are you - " He listened again. "Cas and Gail - " He was interrupted once more. "Fine," he said tersely. He hit the End Call button, then tossed his phone on the table.

"Sam and Becky are taking Brian to the mall," Dean said in a sarcastic tone. "He spent the night there, last night."

Cas's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He looked at Gail, whose eyes widened. Now that none of them could recall their experiences on Mount Kilimanjaro, things were back to status quo regarding the Beast, as well. Which meant that only Castiel, Gail and Gabriel knew that Brian was the Beast of the Apocalypse, and they now knew that it was Vincent who was the baby's father, not Sam. But they hadn't had that conversation with either Sam or Dean, yet. None of the Angels had one single clue about how to even broach the subject, so they'd been putting it off. Why would Sam believe them? What proof did they have? Sam thought of Brian as his son. Should they tell Dean?

Dean misinterpreted their exchange of looks. "Nothing happened," he told the Angels. "He said she wasn't feeling too good, so she asked him to babysit the kid so she could get some sleep."

Gail and Cas were still looking at each other uncomfortably. "You know, if we did find this Anthony, or Rasputin, or whoever he is...?" Gail said slowly, but Cas shook his head briefly. No, he said over their frequency. That wouldn't make any difference. Even if they could somehow find a way to end Vincent's existence without having to harm any more of his children, that didn't mean they could allow Brian to live.

Gail's mouth tightened, but she supposed she understood. Dean let out a frustrated breath. "Look, you guys, I don't like it, either," he said with an edge to his voice. "But it's been made clear to me that there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I guess we'll have to child-proof this place, in a couple of years. Lock away the booze, and the weapons. Especially the weapons, if Becky has to come with the package. Right, Mrs. Buzzkill?"

Gail was startled out of her reverie. "Oh. Yeah. Right," she said lamely. Dean gave her a funny look, but then he shrugged and went back to his computer screen. He knew that Gail wasn't too thrilled about the whole Becky Baby Thing, either. When Becky had first told them all about it, Dean and Gail had been co-presidents of the We Hate Becky club for a while. But their attitude had caused a lot of tension between the Winchesters and the Angels, so they had made a pact to ease up. Dean guessed that Gail was trying to be the bigger person, here. He sighed.

"Trans-Siberian Express," Dean said out loud, scrolling down. "Yeah. Here it is. Cool. Sounds like that boy wizard train." He winced. "Don't tell Sam I said that." He peered closer at the screen. "Sleeping cars, restaurant cars, bar cars...looks good to me."

"I think we'll take the train from Moscow to Siberia," Cas remarked. "I know of a couple of remote villages where he may be holed up."

"Holy crap," Dean said, still staring at the computer. "This train spans 8 different time zones."

Cas smiled. "If we took it from Moscow to Vladivostok, which is the end of the line, we would have travelled roughly 5,700 miles. The railroad was originally contructed from 1891 up until 1916. I'm sure there have been a lot of modern additions since then, but it was quite an impressive feat, for its time."

"Wow. That's really something," Gail enthused. "And you say it'll be snowing, when we go?"

Cas nodded. "It should be, yes."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me, let me guess: You and hubby will have to buy some new clothes, now."

"We should probably buy parkas, and boots, and gloves," Cas said, nodding his head. "Scarves, too. I suggest you and Sam do the same, and Nicole, if she's coming."

The elder Winchester sighed, but he could kind of see the point, if it was going to be that cold there. Actually, Nicole probably had all that stuff, already. He and Sam had bought gloves and heavy coats for that time they'd gone to Ottawa, but if the snow was going to be deep in some of those villages, maybe they'd better get boots, too.

"OK, I'll tell you what," Dean said. "Why don't we go get some stuff now? I can buy boots for Sammy. I know his size. We'll see if Anorak has a Sasquatch division." He smirked at Gail. "Then, we'll take you to the kiddie section."

She made a face at him. "Hey, if we hurry, maybe we'll run into Sam and Becky," she retorted. "Maybe we can help them pick out china patterns."

"Shut up, Gail," Dean said automatically.

Cas looked at his wife. "I don't have any cash on me," he told her. "If you would like to pop home and get some, I'll shut down Sam's computer. We might as well wait until we're all together, to discuss things further."

"OK, sweetie." Gail stood from her chair. "Be right back." She popped out.

Cas reached for Sam's laptop. He scrolled down before exiting the screen, staring at the image of Grigori Rasputin. Not that he needed a refresher, of course. Ever since the subject had come up, Castiel had been picturing Anthony's vessel: dark hair, parted in the middle, scraggly beard, piercing eyes. No, he would need no photograph to identify the man. If he was maintaining the same appearance, Cas would know him instantly. Or, even if Anthony were to be occupying a vessel with a different appearance, Castiel should still be able to sense him. What concerned Cas was the notion that Anthony might not be much of an Angel any more. He could be a hybrid, now: part witch, part Demon, maybe...who knew what else? If he had indeed achieved immortality, he could have become a whole new category of monster.

If Gail had been the one to scroll down to the photograph of Rasputin, she would have recognized him too, from a different context altogether. But for the time being, Cas merely shut down Sam's computer and waited for his wife to return to the bunker so that they could accompany Dean to get some warm clothing for their trip.

Becky closed the door behind Sam and leaned against it, sagging with relief.

She'd been overjoyed when she had called him out of the blue the morning after Hallowe'en, asking when he was coming to see Brian, and he told her that he could come right away, if she wanted. Then, when Sam got there, he told her that Dean was still in Canada with Nicole, so he was pretty much free all day. They'd spent some quality time with Brian, and then when Becky had put her son down for his nap, she and Sam had had some coffee, and talked.

Becky had decided to be in denial about the apparent fact that it was Vincent who was Brian's father, not Sam. That visit to the hypnotists's office had given her a real scare, but Becky had since convinced herself that she had just imagined that whole thing. Deep down, way down, she knew that she should talk to Sam about it. It wasn't fair for her to keep on pretending that Brian was Sam's son if he wasn't Sam's son. At the very least, she should confide in Sam about the way the baby was. It didn't take a genius-level IQ to know that there was something very abnormal about Brian. Months of burying her true feelings about the whole thing, even dating back as far as Quinn's death, had led Becky to become an expert at avoidance. But she was in a spiral now, one she couldn't seem to get out of. If she let Sam find out just how creepy Brian was, that would lead to a bunch more questions, and Becky's whole house of cards would come tumbling down.

Unfortunately, that meant that she couldn't relax and enjoy herself the entire time Sam was over. Brian had never done anything weird around Sam before, but that didn't mean he wouldn't. Every single day, Brian seemed to be getting creepier and creepier. Sam had hung around for the afternoon, just talking and drinking coffee, and it had been great. They'd talked about the Hallowe'en festivities, minus the real-life monster, and Angela's party. Sam had actually apologized, saying that he'd thought that Brian was a bit too young to appreciate that kind of family gathering. But he was looking forward to the coming years, when they could teach little Brian all about Hallowe'en, and Easter, and Christmas...

Christmas. Right. Becky's heart had sunk further and further as she'd tried to have a normal conversation with Sam about a normal child. But it was all an illusion. A big, fat lie. As she looked at Sam's open, trusting expression, Becky's throat closed and she felt like she was on the verge of tears. What the hell was the matter with her? What kind of person WAS she, now? But she loved Sam so much, and he looked so happy when he talked about doing stuff with Brian.

The longer their talk went on, the sicker Becky began to feel. Eventually, she clutched at her stomach and ran to the kitchen, vomiting in the sink. Sam had come after her, asking if she was OK. Of course she wasn't okay! She was puking her guts out! But she'd wiped her mouth and told him that she had been fighting the flu for a couple of days. So Sam had offered to spend the night and take care of Brian, giving Becky a chance to rest and get better. He was being so sweet to her that she ended up puking again.

Then he'd tucked her into bed and brought her some tea, and she'd fallen asleep, worn out from all the anxiety. And Brian had apparently behaved himself, because when she'd gone downstairs the next morning, Becky found a happy, gurgling Brian in the kitchen with Sam, who was heating up a bottle for him.

Sam had made them coffee and breakfast, and once all three of them were fed and Brian was changed, Sam had offered to drive Becky and Brian to the mall, to pick up some baby things. How could Becky refuse?

There had been no weird incidents, just a nice outing with the man Becky loved and "their" baby, having a normal day together. But the longer they spent together, the more tense Becky became. When Sam dropped her and Brian off at the house, brought all of the shopping bags in from the car, and asked her if she was well enough for him to leave, she had practically pushed him out the door.

So Sam was gone now and Brian was in his bassinet on the kitchen table, kicking his little legs and smiling at her. To anyone else he would look cute, but Becky knew that he was getting ready to do something creepy. It was like he'd waited for Sam to leave. She wouldn't put it past him.

The top drawer flew open and dumped all the utensils on the floor except for the big, sharp butcher knife. Oh, no. Becky knew what was coming next. She had tried to throw the stupid knife out, several times. But no matter what she had done to try to dispose of it, every time Brian opened that drawer with his mind, there it was.

The knife floated up to the counter and bounced around there, waiting for Becky to take it. It didn't do her any good to try to ignore it, either. Things would just get worse and worse, until she took it in her hand. Then, she would be required to cut herself with it and feed her son from the open wound, until he was sated. It was a good thing it was November now, because Becky could wear long sleeves to cover up the knife marks. She was being careful not to cut too much in one area, or too deep, either. So far her son was only taking a little, every once in a while, giving her a chance to heal. But Becky had the sinking feeling that Brian would soon begin to demand more than she could possibly give him. And THEN what would she be forced to do for him?

Cas had finished packing his own suitcase, and now he was watching Gail finish up with hers. She had it open on the bed, and she was standing there, staring down at it. Then she moved back to the closet, stared at the clothes that remained hanging there, and grabbed a couple more sweaters and one more pair of pants from their hangers. She brought the clothing over to the bed, piled the items on top of the suitcase, and then stared at it again. Then, apparently having decided she was done, she tried to close the suitcase. But there were too many items, and the clothes were quite bulky. She let out a frustrated breath as the lid of the suitcase bounced back up. Then she stood there looking at it again. After a moment's consideration, she pressed down on the lid with both hands, then held it with one hand while closing the latch on one side with her other hand. But, when she removed her hand from the suitcase to latch the other side, the lid sprang open again.

Cas smiled as his wife made an exasperated "tsk" sound, standing there with her hands on her hips. She was so cute. There was no need to take all of those clothes, not when Gail had the ability to clean clothing using only her hands.

He was debating whether or not to tell her that when Gail wheeled around to look at him. "Do you want to stop grinning and help me, here?" she said irritably.

"I'll be glad to try, but it looks like you might need Frank's elephant to sit on it," Cas quipped, still smiling.

She stared at him balefully. "How did YOU close YOUR suitcase?"

"I packed fewer clothes," he stated calmly. "I don't think you need as many as you've got in there."

Gail's lips twitched. "Either you're trying very diplomatically to say I've over-packed, or I'm in for a very romantic trip," she said mischeviously.

"Why don't we just say that it's a little of both?" Cas said mildly. He walked towards the bed. "You probably won't need this, for instance," he said, removing a heavy knitted sweater from the suitcase and putting it aside. "Or this." Another sweater. "Or this suede jacket, either," Cas added, removing the item and placing it on top of the sweaters he had just taken out. He stroked the jacket for a moment. "Although, this particular jacket is very nice on you," he remarked. He smiled at his wife. "I think we'll leave the cashmere in there, though. Those are my favourites. They're almost as soft as you are."

Gail looked at him, indecisive. On the one hand, she didn't really appreciate him unpacking for her, when she had just spent all that time packing. But on the other hand, he was being so charming about it that she couldn't be too mad at him. She supposed he was right; she didn't really need all that stuff. And the cashmere sweaters were actually her favourites, too. Any excuse for her to be touched by her husband was a welcome one, in her opinion.

"We should be able to close your suitcase now," Cas said to her. "Allow me." He snapped the lid shut, then swung the case off the bed to join his own on the floor. "There," he added lightly. "Are you ready to go now, my love? Or do you need me to pop over to the mall and purchase another suitcase?"

"OK, now you're pushing it," Gail said, eyeing him.

Cas put his arm around her waist and drew her to him. "I apologize, my love," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, since you put it that way..." she said. He kissed her on the lips. "I would get you as many suitcases as you wanted, and pack them all for you," he told her, nuzzling her cheek. "But when we're cuddled in our berth on the train, I'm looking forward to seeing you wear as little clothing as possible."

"OK, you win," she said, smiling. "Let's just grab my suitcase and leave ALL my clothes here, then."

The two of them laughed, and then Gail's smile faded. "What are we walking into, Cas? Have you got any idea?"

His arms tightened around her. "No, not really," he answered her honestly. "I'm not even sure if we will be able to track Anthony down. But, I think we need to try. I need to find out what he's up to, and if he can shed any light on the mystery of immortality. I think we should at least attempt to obtain the information."

Gail nodded. Her heart began to race. Was it possible that this could be the answer to dealing with Vincent? And, if it was, maybe they could also track down Alice, and convince her to stand down from her apparent mission to eliminate Vincent's offspring. The woman still had to be brought to account for Eric's murder, after all. But, first things first. Vincent was the bigger issue, right now. Vincent was always the bigger issue.

"Let's go, Cas," she said to her husband, giving him one more kiss. He gave her a squeeze, and then picked up their suitcases.

Dean had packed a suitcase too, which was kind of a weird experience for him. Usually, when he and Sam went on the road, he just threw a few things in his duffel bag, and that was that. But this was the first trip he'd taken in...well, ever...where he was going to be in close quarters with a female partner, instead of his brother. So he'd figured he'd better step up his game a bit.

Dean was mostly thrilled that Nicole was coming with them. She had wanted to visit the country of her ancestral family for years, anyway, and now that she knew who her family had truly been, she hadn't been able to resist coming along. Richard had been generous enough to give her a leave of absence from the show. So it was going to be Cas and Gail, Dean and Nicole, and Sam. For a couple of minutes there, when Sammy'd come back from seeing his kid, Dean had wondered if his brother was going to bail on the trip. But thankfully, Sam had said he wouldn't miss it. Dean was glad. He'd had to accept that Sam and Becky had a baby together, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let that little bimbo get her hooks into his little brother. No way. Not on his watch.

This whole Rasputin deal was making Dean uneasy, though. If this guy Anthony had somehow "transcended mortality", as Cas had put it, how the hell were they supposed to handle him? Dean knew his Angel best friend well enough to know that it was eating Cas up inside that he hadn't finished the job on the guy. And Dean also knew Cas well enough to know that he would want to tie up that little loose end. But first, if they were even able to find him, they were going to try to get his secret. One way or the other. That would be weird for Nicole, though. It was one thing to be aware that your boyfriend was a Hunter, and his friends were Angels, but it was a whole other ballgame to see for yourself the kind of stuff that might entail. Years ago, Gail had received one hell of a reality check when she had witnessed them torturing a Demon for the first time. Now, years later, Nicole might have to receive her own initiation into their strange and not-so-wonderful club. Maybe Dean would make a point to have a little talk with Nicole before they got there, to make sure her eyes were wide open about the kind of situation they might be walking into.

He grabbed his suitcase and headed out to the library to await Cas and Gail's arrival.

Gail had offered to pick Nicole up the Angel way. The five of them were going to fly to Moscow from the USA together, so Nicole was going to come to the bunker, first.

Gail had envisioned the exact type of situation that Dean had been thinking about. That was one of the reasons she had said she'd like to be the one to pick Dean's girlfriend up from Vancouver. Gail wanted to make herself available to Nicole, should she have any questions.

"Hi," Nicole said pleasantly, opening the front door of her apartment to admit her Angel friend. "I'm almost finished packing. Will you come back into the bedroom with me? I'd like your opinion on something."

Gail shrugged. "Sure." She followed Nicole down the hallway. They walked into the room, and Gail had to smile. Nicole had her suitcase open on the bed, and there was a pile of clothes next to it. This was starting to look all too familiar.

Nicole strode briskly over to the clothes that were next to the suitcase. She grabbed two sweaters, one in each hand, showing them to Gail. "Which one do you like better?" she asked her friend. "The pink one, or this one, with the stripes? I'm running out of room."

Gail burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. She told Nicole about her own packing dilemma, and Cas's solution.

"Men don't care," Nicole said, rolling her eyes. "They just don't get it. You have to figure out what looks good with what."

Gail nodded. "I know, right? Of course, our guys look good in everything. It's a little bit more challenging for me, because I'm so short."

Nicole sighed. But then, she smiled slyly. "Maybe Dean and I should just be like you and Cas. I'm sure the fewer clothes I have on, the better Dean will like it, anyway."

Gail grinned. "That's the spirit. I told Cas I was just going to dump all my clothes on the bed, and not bother to pack anything." She flopped down on the edge of the bed. "Bring the striped one; it's cute."

Nicole put the striped sweater in her suitcase. "Thanks." She hesitated a moment, then said, "I want to say something to you, and I want to make sure I put it right."

Gail was puzzled. "Okie-dokie," she said slowly.

Nicole closed her suitcase. "I know I could never replace Liz, but if you'll let me, I'd like to be your friend," she said softly. "I don't know about you, but I miss being able to giggle with a girlfriend, sometimes. I don't have a whole lot of people I can do that with, and I just thought maybe you could use that in your life, too."

Gail was touched. It was really sweet of Nicole to say that. "Thanks, that means a lot to me," she said to Dean's girlfriend. Her heart clenched for a moment. She missed Liz so much. Nicole was right; it would be impossible to replace the special relationship that Gail had had with her childhood friend. Things could be so unfair, sometimes. She and Liz had found each other after all those years and re-established their bond, only for Liz to be taken away so cruelly. How could Gail be expected to go on without her? How could Gabriel?

But they WOULD go on, because, what was the alternative? There were still missions to accomplish, and bad people out there to take care of. In the meantime, though, here was Nicole, reaching out.

Gail rose from the bed and went over to where Dean's girlfriend was standing. "I'd love to have a giggle with you," she told Nicole, and then Gail's lips twitched. "But, just so you know, a lot of that giggling is probably going to involve making fun of Dean."

"I'm absolutely OK with that," Nicole said, smiling.

The women shared a hug, and in that moment, a real friendship was born.

Sam was the last to join their group. He'd given Becky a quick call and told her where he was going, but not why. She had been more than a little curious, but Becky had her own problems right now. So she'd told him she would see him when he got back, and hung up.

Huh. Sam looked at his cell phone, puzzled. Becky was acting kind of weird, lately. Maybe he should help her out a little bit more with his son. Being a single mother must be difficult. He resolved to have a talk with her about the situation, once he got back from Russia.

"Let's go," Dean said.

Dwayne was in the living room area of Nicole's house in Ottawa, reinforcing the big picture window frame. Winter was coming, and she had noticed there was a draft coming in. Even though the renovations were due to continue well into the New Year, she didn't want to be paying for heat that was just going to seep out the cracks in the frame. The workmen would be there all day long, Monday through Friday, and she had given the foreman the green light to put the heat on once the winter got really cold. It was a big house, so depending on how cold the weather became, keeping the heat on all day could prove very costly. Still, it was good of her to tell Al that he could adjust the thermostat at his discretion to help keep his men warm. A lot of the people they did renos for never thought about things like that.

But Nicole had also told Al that she was concerned about heat leeching out through the windows, and upon closer inspection, he could see why. The house was old, and there were a lot of areas that had fallen into disrepair. Therefore, when he and his workers had arrived on Monday morning, one of the first things the foreman had done was to designate Dwayne to check on, and reinforce, the weatherstripping along the window frames.

Dwayne could see the drapes moving at the top of the huge picture window in the living room area. Oh yeah, there was a leak, all right. He pulled the ladder closer, and started to climb. First, he'd have a look and see how bad it was.

VIGNETTE - HOW COULD AN ANGEL BREAK MY HEART

Valentina was watching the men swarm around the house now, and she was somewhat inexplicably upset by it. She had no connection to this place, nor to the woman who currently owned the house. This was merely a waystation for her, a place that had attracted Valentina like a beacon. Her sister Victoria was tethered to this house, as was the Grand Duchess, Tatiana Romanov. That was really what had drawn Valentina here, to begin with. But Valentina Buxhoveden was much stronger than those mournful-faced weaklings, and she was much, much angrier. She had been present when they had told their sad stories to the humans and the Angels, and by the end of the tales, Valentina had been seething. Her story was just as tragic, if not more so, yet no one would lament it. And when the Angel Castiel had told his wife and their friends that he had been directed by Heaven to kill Rasputin, it was all that Valentina could do not to burn that entire house down to the ground.

What she had heard was unbelievable, because Grigori Rasputin hadn't been an Angel at all, contrary to what Castiel was telling the others. Not in Valentina's view, at least. To her, he had been the Devil Incarnate.

She hadn't always felt that way, of course. Valentina had first seen Rasputin coming and going from the Royal palace, and originally, she hadn't thought much of him. To her, he'd just looked like an ordinary peasant, although perhaps a little better-dressed than most. But then one day, when Victoria had sent word for her sister to go ahead home without her, Grigori had stopped and introduced himself. He had invited her to his home for tea, and because he was a holy man who moved in respectable circles, Valentina had agreed. That meeting had led to another, which had led to another, and then, Grigori had seduced her with his smooth way of talking and his practiced, healing hands.

Valentina had fallen in love with the man, and he'd told her he loved her, too. But their love was not destined to last, he'd said, not if any one of his many enemies had their way. People distrusted visionaries such as himself, and they didn't understand healers who merely wanted to help others, without expecting anything in return. Soon, Rasputin would be dead, a victim of jealousy and politics.

No, Valentina had told him. No! She would not allow that to happen. She had a confession to make about herself that may shock him, but because they loved each other so much, she hoped he would be able to overlook it: Valentina was a witch.

Grigori had been astonished, or at least, he had pretended to be. But Valentina was in love, and she had been completely taken in. He had told her that as a holy man, he should not involve himself with someone who practiced witchcraft. But she didn't practice the art to do harm, Valentina had insisted. In fact, it was quite the contrary. She had been working on a certain spell for years, ever since her and Victoria's young brother Jonathan had died of a mysterious ailment at the tender age of 12. The sisters had been heartbroken, and their parents had never been the same afterwards. Jonathan had been an innocent young boy, who had wanted to do so much with his life. Valentina would sit by his bedside and read stories with her little brother, tales of travel and adventure, and his eyes would light up. Once he felt a little better, they would have all of those adventures and more, Valentina had promised him.

But that had all been a lie. Jonathan had gotten sicker and sicker, and then he had died. Valentina had run outside into the dirt streets of the village to their church, sobbing the entire way. Why? Why? But she had never received an answer.

She had been crying when she'd told Grigori about it, pleading with him to understand. She had suffered a crisis of faith after that, but she wasn't a bad person. It was just...if the church couldn't provide any answers to the mysteries of life and death, she had been determined to find them elsewhere.

Grigori had been so sweet. So understanding. He'd told her that even though he was a holy healer, he could understand very well the need to discover that sort of information. He had kissed Valentina and told her that he loved her, and whatever she had to tell him, he promised that he would not condemn her. In fact, if she had unlocked the secret to eternal life, if she would share it with him, the two of them could spend their lives together until the end of time.

That was all that Valentina had needed to hear. She had been fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of two ancient and very experienced witches, she informed her lover. Rowena and Marie. They had taken her into their home, under their care, and taught her a number of spells. She was still relatively new to their little group, Valentina had said, not wishing to use the word "coven" to a holy man. As of yet, she had not been taught the more complex magic. But Valentina had overheard the two women talking about a revival spell.

Anthony had nearly choked on his tea. A revival spell?! If that was genuine, he had to find out more about it. Yes, he was an Angel who had basically hijacked a mortal vessel, but he knew that it would be just a matter of time until God sent Castiel or another one of the high-ranking soldiers to come to Earth and end his existence. If this so-called revival spell could bring him back, he would be unstoppable.

But, there had been more to come. Valentina had then said that she had a very strong feeling that there was even more to it than that. She told Grigori that Marie was working on a spell that would make herself immortal. The senior witch had been drunk on wine one night, and Rowena had been out on the town, dallying with one of her many beaux. Far be it from Marie Laveau to judge, but between her and Valentina, Rowena had always been a bit too free and easy with men, no matter what era she had been in. But Marie had loftier goals than that. If she thought her partner could be trusted to that extent, Marie would share the secret with Rowena. But it was too risky. If Rowena didn't let it slip to one of those men while she was in her cups, she might also have a fit of sentiment, and share it with her son.

Her son? Valentina had said, surprised. Rowena had never mentioned a son to her, before.

That wasn't much of a shock, Marie had said in a contemptuous tone. Rowena's son was the worst sort of individual. Then, the Creole witch had passed out from drink, and the next time she and Valentina spoke, Marie seemed to have no recollection of the conversation.

This was unbelievable! Anthony had poured out words of love and encouragement, and then he had made love to Valentina so ardently that she'd made up her mind right then and there to steal her mentor's secrets for herself, and for the love of her life.

Shortly after that day, a very frightened but exhilarated Valentina hid herself underneath a table in the small cottage where Rowena and Marie had set up their operations and watched as Madame Laveau removed her own spell book from underneath the wood stove. Rowena never cooked, so that was one of the best hiding spots Marie could think of. Her partner had gone out yet again, and Marie could wait no longer. Tonight was the night she intended to try out the spell.

Valentina had made careful note of the ingredients Marie used, but when Marie reached into her blouse for the small pouch she wore on a chain and took out a vial of liquid, her protegee's eyes narrowed. What was THAT? The liquid was clear, but it also sparkled with colours. It was mesmerizing. She had never seen anything like it before.

Marie did something very peculiar, then: she brought the glass vial up to her lips, and kissed it. Then she held it for another moment, until the colours began to dance.

"Negatem morte," Marie said solemnly. "Ultime la vie pour une personne qui a une ame."

She poured half of the vial's contents into the bowl, and a bright white glow suffused the room. Valentina had to shield her eyes for a moment. Then, when she was able to look again, she observed Marie drinking down the potion. Then the senior witch put the bowl down on the table, capped the vial carefully, and slipped the chain it was attached to down her blouse again.

Marie stood there for a moment, and then she cleared her throat and said, "There's only one problem with this spell, cherie. I need to die, in order to find out if it will allow me to live." She turned around, looking at Valentina's hiding place. "You can come out, now."

Valentina's heart began to race. She crept out timidly from beneath the table.

"It's all right, child," Madame Laveau said to her young protegee. "I knew that you were there, all along."

"I'm sorry, Madame Marie," Valentina said, trembling. "I merely wanted to see..." Her voice cracked, and she tried again. "I fear that the man I love will be assassinated soon. I wanted to find out if your spell might help us to be together, forever."

Marie's lips tightened. "Then, why did you not just ask me, my dear?"

"I was afraid," Valentina answered honestly.

"Don't be," the elder witch said briskly. "We took you on to teach you the Arts. But one thing I can't abide is someone going behind my back. Because you are in love, I will excuse what you have done, just this once. But, only on one condition: you must not tell Rowena what you have seen. She went behind my back once too, years and years ago. But in her case, once was too much. She seduced the man I loved."

Valentina gasped. "Rowena did that? Then how is it that you are together with her, now?"

"Because the Sisterhood is the priority," Marie said, sighing. "There are so many of us who have been persecuted and put to death over the years, and usually, the people who have done those things to us have been men. Having said that, though, I know what it's like to be in love. So if you will help me to test the spell, if I have done it correctly, I will share it with you, so that you can help your holy man to live."

Valentina's jaw dropped. "You know about Grigori?"

"Of course I do, cherie," Marie said, and her tone was gentler now. "Just be sure, before you give it to him, that his intentions are honourable."

The younger witch smiled warmly at her mentor. "Merci, Madame. You are very good to me."

Marie returned her smile. She had been telling Valentina the truth when she'd said that she would share the spell with the young girl. But she had been less than honest when it came to the subject of Rowena. Marie wasn't sure she would ever be able to forgive Rowena for lifting her skirts for Vincent at the Solstice that night. But she would deal with her coven partner in her own way, and in her own time. And if this spell worked, that would be an awfully long time, indeed.

"Go to the bureau, and look in the bottom drawer," Marie instructed her young charge. "You will find a dagger there, wrapped in burlap. Be very, very careful in the way you handle it. The blade is dipped in cyanide. I want you to bring the knife here, and stab me with it."

Valentina gaped at her. "You can't be serious," she blurted out.

Madame Laveau gave the younger woman an indulgent look. "That is the only way we will find out if the spell works. Now, do we have an agreement or not?"

The young witch sighed. She really didn't want to do this. What if the spell was ineffective? Then she would be a murderer. But what if it DID work? Valentina had seen many wondrous things during her time with the witches. Miraculous things.

So Valentina crept timidly over to the bureau and got the knife from the bottom drawer, as instructed. Then she came back with it, extending the cloth-wrapped bundle to Marie. But the older witch shook her head. Valentina sighed again. She put the cloth down gently on the table and unwrapped it slowly.

"Hurry, my child," Marie said, adding dryly, "I may be an ancient practitioner of the occult arts, but I'm also a human being. Please do not prolong this. Either the spell will work, or it will not."

Valentina's heart was beating a mile a minute in her chest, but she understood what her mentor meant, and how she must feel at the moment. So she gripped the dagger tightly, being careful not to nick herself with the blade, and plunged it into Madame Marie's chest, in one swift motion.

The elder witch gasped, but she said, "Well done, cherie. Merci. Please stay with me now, and hold my hand."

Then, as the blood began to bloom at the point of contact, Madame Laveau slumped to the floor. Valentina went down with her mentor, cradling her and squeezing her hand firmly. Marie coughed weakly, and blood sputtered out of her mouth. Then she hitched in a breath, and then she died.

Valentina's blood ran cold. Oh, God. She had killed Madame Laveau! What had she been thinking? How on earth had she been persuaded to do this? Her mind began to race. Maybe she could run to Grigori's loft, and the two of them could steal away, before the authorities found...

Marie gasped loudly, and her eyes opened wide. She drew in a deep breath, and an awestruck Valentina helped to raise the elder witch into a sitting position. Then, the most incredible thing of all: Marie reached for the dagger and pulled it slowly out of her own chest, looking at the blood-stained blade. Then she dropped it on the floor with a clatter, looking at her young protegee. And then, Madame Laveau began to smile.

"Help me to stand, ma petit cherie," she said to Valentina. "I will change out of this bloody clothing, and then we will work on the spell together, for you and your beau. Maybe you can have the relationship that I never got to have."

Valentina hugged the Creole woman impulsively. But as soon as she did so, she pulled away again, fearing that she had hurt her mentor. But, although her blouse was still bloody, Marie's chest wound had healed completely.

A short while after that, Valentina left the cottage with a flask of the potion on a chain around her neck. She couldn't wait to share it with Grigori. Nothing would ever harm them, and nothing was going to keep them apart.

Valentina swept her arm across her body, and the ladder came crashing down. Then the cord that was used to draw the drapes snapped off the wall and wrapped itself around Dwayne's body, binding his limbs tightly to his sides. And then, as he struggled to get free, Dwayne's nail gun detached itself from his belt. His eyes grew wide as the tool hovered in midair above him. Nails shot out of the gun into his chest and torso, and he screamed.

By the time the crew members who had been working in the dining room area got to him, Dwayne had passed out cold from the pain, and the nail gun was laying innocently on the living room floor.

Chapter 2 - Demon Preacher

The good news was that he had managed to get them the quickest flight available to Moscow with only one layover, Sam had told the others.

The bad news was that their layover would be five hours, in Des Moines. Predictably enough, Dean groaned, flopping into one of the bench seats in the waiting area at the airport.

"Des Moines," he grumbled. "Great."

"Hey, it could have been a lot worse," Sam said calmly. "There were other routes that involved taking three planes or more, with thirteen-hour layovers in some places. At least we only have to take one more plane after this."

"Thank goodness," Cas sighed, running a hand through his hair. The brothers looked at him, amused. It was still funny to them, after all these years. An Angel, who could teleport himself all over the world, or even to different planets in different galaxies, who was scared of flying in airplanes.

"Buck up, Cas, we have nearly sixteen hours to go on the second plane," Dean said, making a face. He hated flying too, but somehow it made him feel better that Cas seemed even more terrified of it than he was. Well, at least if something happened to the plane, Cas and Gail could just zap them out of there.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Gail said, sitting beside her husband.

"Nothing," Cas said quickly. "Nothing is the matter. We were just talking about the fact that we have to wait five hours here, until we can get on the plane to Moscow."

As Dean smirked at Cas, Nicole settled down beside her boyfriend. "We got the Wi-Fi password for the terminal," she said to Sam, "in case you want to do some research."

"On what?" Dean said irritably. "Russia. Cold. Buncha churches, so Cas and Gail can feel right at home. Communism. 'Better dead than red'. We've got it."

"I wouldn't say that last part to anybody, if I were you," Sam quipped, taking his laptop out of its case. "Somebody might take you up on it."

Nicole rolled her eyes. "And, they haven't had a Communist system in place for quite a few years, now."

"He's seen too many jingoistic movies," Gail remarked.

Nicole smiled. "I'm so glad you were the one to say that. It'd probably sound worse coming from a Canadian."

Dean was looking at the women with suspicion. "If you think I don't know what that word means, you're wrong," he said to them. "And, hey, I'm all for you guys being friends, but I hope this isn't the start of some big female conspiracy."

"Conspiracy? What the hell are you talking about?" Gail asked him, puzzled.

"You both went to the ladies' room," Dean pointed out. "Since when do YOU need to go to the ladies' room?"

"I didn't NEED to go, I just went to keep Nicole company," Gail said with a half-shrug.

Dean was still looking dour. "OK, since we have time, settle this for us men, once and for all: Why do women always go there in groups? What do you DO in there?"

"I always picture them dancing, laughing, and having pillow fights," Sam wisecracked. "Maybe drinking from champagne flutes."

They all turned their heads to look at the younger Winchester. "What?" he said, feigning innocence.

"How big, and fancy, do you think our washrooms ARE?" Nicole asked him, an incredulous look on her face.

"Hey, if they were that much fun, I'd go all the time," Gail said with a smile. "But, pillow fights? Really? You're walking a fine line there, Sam," she added, raising her eyebrow.

"Ahhh, give Sammy a break. It's been a while for him," Dean said wickedly.

Gail held up a hand. "Ewww," she remarked in a dry tone. "You guys are like my brothers. I don't want to hear anything about that kind of stuff."

"You don't? I'm surprised you were able to pry your lips off your husband's long enough to say that," Dean retorted. "When people look up 'PDA' on Google, they see yours and Cas's picture. When - "

"OK, OK, we get it," Gail said, shaking her head slowly. She rolled her eyes again. "But we're not doing anything now, are we?"

Nicole cleared her throat, making a gesture. Gail looked down at her leg, where Cas's hand was resting on her thigh, lightly caressing it. Oh, geez. She hadn't even realized. It was such normal behaviour for them that she hadn't even thought twice about it.

Gail gave Dean a toothy grin. "Shut up, Egbert," she said good-naturedly.

"OK, you guys are going to have to tell me that story," Nicole said, and so the five of them chatted and laughed about the quartet's experiences in Las Vegas for a while.

Then, when that topic had been exhausted, Sam looked up from his computer. "Actually, Moscow looks like a really beautiful city," he remarked.

"It is," Cas agreed, nodding. "There are many architectural wonders there. The Kremlin, Red Square, the Bolshoi Theatre..."

Dean's lips twitched. "Bolshoi. It's a good thing Frank wasn't here to hear that."

"You'll like this, Gail," Sam continued. "It says here that Moscow is the coldest metropolis on Earth. Winter temperatures average around the freezing point or a few degrees below during the day, and it'll be even colder at night."

As Gail pumped her fist, Dean looked at her. "You're such a weirdo," he said, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Caught off guard, Dean laughed. He enjoyed this kind of give and take with Gail sometimes, as long as he didn't have to be married to her to have it. Besides, it was as entertaining a way to waste five hours in Des Moines as any.

"It will probably be snowing lightly when we get there," Cas commented. "And it'll be snowing even more in the remote villages. That was why I suggested we should all bring boots."

"My boots are knee-high," Nicole said with a smile. "I'm ready for anything." She looked at Gail. "And, I brought a couple of extra pairs of earmuffs, in case yours go whizzing off again, and cause an international incident."

Gail's lips twitched. "Good one," she said to Dean's girlfriend.

"Hey! If I said that, you'd be telling me off!" Dean protested.

"No, I wouldn't," Gail replied sassily. "I'd just aim them at you."

Nicole laughed, and Sam smiled. He usually enjoyed it when Gail and his brother had these types of exchanges, too. It was all in good fun. "I'm anxious to see Red Square, and Saint Basil's Cathedral," he remarked. "I've only ever seen pictures of these places. Stock footage from movies, that kind of thing. Who would have ever thought that we would actually be going to Russia?"

All of them were silent for a moment. None of them, except for Cas, who had pretty much been everywhere.

"I know we're going there in search of Rasputin," Nicole said, lowering her voice, "but I'm hoping to find out more about my ancestors, too."

"I see no reason we cannot do both," Cas told her. "In fact, finding out more about your family might unearth clues that will lead us to him."

"I think once we land at the airport and get to the hotel, we should go to the house where the Romanovs were killed. Sorry, Nicole," Sam added quickly. He was looking thoughtful. "Considering who they were, there will probably be a museum at the site."

"It's OK, Sam," Nicole said to Dean's brother. Then she looked at the others. "Look, I appreciate everybody's sensitivity, but you don't need to worry about my feelings, you guys. I never knew any of those people. It was terrible, what happened to them, but I know that this is an investigation. So let's not do that, okay?"

Dean was looking over Sam's shoulder at the computer screen. "What airport are we landing at, Sammy?" he said, smirking.

Sam looked at his brother. "You can see the name, right there." He pointed to the screen.

"You can't say it, can you?" Dean needled his brother.

"Can YOU?" Sam retorted.

"It'll be Sheremetyevo International Airport, I imagine," Cas said mildly. "And if you scroll down, Sam, I think you may find that the Ipatiev House no longer exists."

Dean did a double-take at Cas's flawless Russian pronunciation. He wondered if this was going to be like Ottawa and that snooty desk clerk, all over again. But there was something else he was more curious about: "The Ipatiev House? Is that the place Sam was talking about?"

"Yeah. It says here the house is in Ekaterinburg. The Impatiev House, which means - " Sam started to say.

" - 'The House of Special Purpose'," Cas chimed in, interrupting him.

"Uh...yeah," Sam said. He was staring at Cas now, too. It seemed like their friend knew an awful lot about these things, for a guy who'd supposedly only spent a few minutes there, back in the day. Then, Sam picked up the narrative: "They were taken to this place because it was isolated, but the family was kept alive there, at least for a while. It's not clear if their murders were planned ahead of time, and if so, how far ahead. But they lived there with a few of their staff, supposedly in exile, until one day, when the whole family and their servants were herded into a small basement room in the back of the building, and slaughtered." Sam scrolled down, and then his frown grew deeper. "It looks like Cas was right, though. The house was demolished, in 1977." He looked at their Angel friend. "How did you know?"

Cas gave him a half-shrug. "I only surmised," he replied. "I'm just surprised that it took that long. The building was a source of national shame. What's at the site now, Sam?"

The younger Winchester consulted his computer again. "The grounds were bare after the house was razed, but pilgrims kept coming, leaving tokens of remembrance on the vacant site. Finally, in 1991, they built a church there, 'The Church On The Blood'."

"Wow. Whoever names these places sure has no sense of subtlety, do they?" Gail said dryly.

"We can go there if you wish, Nicole, to pay our respects," Cas stated, "but in order to try to find..." he looked around them "...who we seek, I think we should concentrate on a couple of rural villages I have in mind. That's why I suggested taking the Trans-Siberian Express." He reached over and took Gail's hand. After Dean had looked askance at the Angel couple earlier, Cas had removed his hand from Gail's leg. But they were sitting right beside each other, and it felt strange not to be making some sort of physical contact with her. Another reason Cas had wanted to use the train was because he'd thought it to be romantic, and he was certain that Gail would, too. These kinds of things had always been very important to Cas, but it seemed also to feel like a priority, right now. While he and Gail had been packing for their trip, it had occurred to Cas that he didn't recall them having celebrated their wedding anniversary. Had they missed it, yet again? How did this keep happening to them? It was arguably the most important date they could ever observe. He'd always considered the original October date to be their true anniversary. But, it was odd: why would a couple who were as much in love as he and Gail were keep missing their wedding anniversary? In any event, Cas intended to be extra-romantic and solicitous towards his wife on this trip, to make up for it.

"What kinds of places did you have in mind, Cas?" Sam asked the Angel, breaking into his reverie. "If you could give me a couple of names, I could look them up. We've got time," he added with a grin.

Cas thought for a moment. "Well, the first place we could try is Rasputin's birth village, Poknovskoye."

"Poughkeepsie?" Nicole said, her lips twitching.

Cas knew that she was joking, so he went on: "That is a Siberian village, in a remote area. Its name means 'forgotten by God'." He gave Gail's hand a gentle squeeze. "Another case of irony, apparently. That is where the human Grigori Rasputin grew up. Or, we could also try Vyatskoye. That's a small but very historic village, which was founded in 1502." Now, a faint smile played on his lips. "We ancient beings tend to gravitate towards those kinds of places."

"How do you spell that, Cas?" Sam asked their friend, keying in the village's name. A moment later, he shook his head. "I don't know about that one, Cas. It was voted one of Russia's most beautiful villages, a few years ago. They had a few hundred thousand visitors there, last year. It seems unlikely he would hide in a place that attracts so many tourists."

As Cas nodded thoughtfully, Sam elbowed Dean. "Check it out," he said, tilting the laptop toward his brother.

"Awwww, geez," Dean groaned, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Gail asked, curious.

"I can see it now," Dean groused. "Your husband is gonna make us go there, anyway, so I might as well tell you. This place has got ten museums, including the Museum of Angels, and the Museum of Love Stories."

"Get outta here," Gail said, open-mouthed.

"He's not joking," Sam confirmed. "That's what it says, right here."

They all looked at Cas, who favoured them with a genuine smile. "Don't worry," he assured Dean. "This isn't the proper context. But I've made a mental note to take Gail there, at a future time. Just the two of us."

Dean mimed wiping sweat from his brow. "Phew. That was a close one," he remarked.

"What makes you think they're the only ones who want to go there?" Nicole said to her boyfriend. "Maybe I want to go to that Love Museum place."

Dean's head turned slowly to look at her, and his mouth opened, then closed again. After a moment, Nicole started to laugh. "You should see your face right now!" she exclaimed gleefully, putting her hand on his arm. "Don't worry; I would be a lot more interested in a Harley-Davidson Museum than one about love, or Angels." She looked at Cas and Gail. "No offense."

Gail burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? That was excellent!" She looked at Dean. "You SHOULD see your face right now," she said, echoing Nicole's statement of a moment ago. "You looked completely panicked."

Cas and Sam were smiling too, but then Cas's smile began to fade. "There is one place we could check that may be of some significance to him," he said soberly. "I'm sorry to have to use this expression in connection with your family, Nicole, but..."

"What, Cas?" she asked him.

"Pig's Meadow," he said reluctantly, avoiding her gaze. "That was the name of the field where the bodies were found."

Sam's fingers flew over the keyboard again. "It says here that only 9 bodies were found there, but there were supposed to be 11. This is years after the fact, of course, when they excavated the grave, and did the forensics. But then, they came across 2 other bodies subsequently, in another location. So the math added up again, assuming all those bodies were the right ones. But it also says here that there was never any confirmation as to the identities of the other two. There are some ashes and bone fragments in the Russian state archives, somewhere. But the government isn't exactly being transparent about the remains, even after all these years," Sam remarked.

They were all silent for a moment, and then Nicole let out a breath. "You know, I know that I said I was okay, but that makes me kind of mad," she stated. "This is a family we're talking about. I don't care about the politics; they were parents, and their children. And how about the servants? They were only doing their jobs. It really sucks that they murdered these people in cold blood, and then dumped them in a place called 'Pig's Meadow'. It sounds like none of them ever even got a decent burial. No wonder Tatiana and Victoria are so upset."

"Hey, do you think, if we grabbed those remains and you guys did your thing, that they could move on?" Gail asked the Winchesters.

The brothers exchanged a glance. "Maybe," Sam said doubtfully. "But it doesn't even say exactly where the remains are, and even if we found that out, there's no confirmation here that Victoria's would be among them. And we know that Tatiana's wouldn't be, because she told us that she escaped from there."

There was another grim silence. Then Cas said, "I know that the two of you have far more knowledge about these matters than I do, but I don't necessarily think this situation is as simple as just burning their remains. I believe there is more to be discovered here."

Dean poked his brother. "Hey, Sammy, find out if there are any cool cars we can rent, when we get there."

Sam dutifully Googled Russian sportscars. "Hey, look at this," he remarked. He tilted the computer so that Dean and Nicole could see the picture on the screen.

"What's THAT?" Nicole asked, peering closer.

"It's called a Marussia BZ," Sam replied.

"Looks like a futuristic Batmobile, or something," Dean commented. "Holy crap! Top speed is 310!"

"That's kilometres, Dean," Sam told his broither, "but still, it's pretty impressive."

"Look at this car, Cas," Dean said, grabbing the computer and turning it around to show his Angel friend.

"It's very nice, Dean, but if you're suggesting that we should rent that car to go around to the villages, we will be unable to do that," Cas said mildly. "The rural people would be very suspicious of tourists who drive such an opulent vehicle."

"Wipe the drool off my keyboard, Dude," Sam wisecracked, taking his laptop back.

But Dean looked crestfallen now. "So, what are we gonna drive, then?" he asked Cas glumly.

"Something much more modest," Cas answered. "Maybe even a horse and buggy. We'll have to do a bit more scouting, when we get there. If these villages are as old-fashioned as they used to be, we'd better not appear to be too 'urban' to the people living there."

"Good thing I left my bling at home, then," Sam said, grinning.

The five of them continued to banter back and forth, and before they knew it, their flight was being announced.

As the quintet's plane crossed the time zones and arrived in Moscow on the next calendar day, Al and his crew were taking a coffee break at Nicole's house in Ottawa.

"How's Dwayne?" Jean-Claude asked their foreman.

Al frowned. "He's OK. He still claims that nail gun shot him all by itself, but I told him to stow it. We all know he's a klutz. He obviously triggered the thing when he fell off the ladder; he just doesn't want to admit it. But, he's gonna be fine."

"That's good," Wally said, draining his coffee. He picked up his toolbox. "I'm gonna finish up in the kitchen. I want to test that new exhaust system we put in."

"Then you should takes Yves with you," Jean-Claude wisecracked. "He had beans for lunch."

The men all laughed, and they began to drift to their various work stations throughout the house. Wally was still chuckling when he entered the kitchen. He put his toolbox on the counter and reached up to turn on the exhaust fans above the new stoves that he and his team had installed the previous day. There had been a stove here before, of course, but since the house was being turned into a Bed and Breakfast establishment, they were expanding the kitchen, and adding more appliances. Now there were several range-type stoves with flat surfaces sitting side by side.

The exhaust fans had started up as they should, but the motor seemed a bit noisy for Wally's taste. So he reached into his toolbox and took out a screwdriver to open the hood above the stovetop.

Valentina watched as the men worked away in the kitchen. The one who was at the stove had a beard. He reminded her of Grigori, in a way. But then again, everything reminded her of Grigori.

She thought back to the night she had received the vial of the potion of eternal life from Madame Marie. She had rushed out of the cottage, eager to share it with her lover. Once he did not have the constant threat of assassination hanging over his head, they could discuss their wedding arrangements.

Valentina was so excited that when she burst into Grigori's loft, her eyes did not immediately register what she was seeing. Grigori was laying on his bed, which was not unusual for this late in the evening. He lived the meagre existence of a man who had taken the vow of poverty, but for a couple of items. He always had a bottle or two of the finest cognac at hand, which he had advised was supplied to him by the Tsar, himself. And the other item was his large feather bed. Valentina had shared that bed with him, as often as was discreetly possible.

But now, as Valentina peered closer at the bed, she could see in the dim light of the candles which were burning on the table that Grigori was not alone. A young, buxom woman was laying beside him, and they were both naked.

Valentina screamed incoherently as the two of them looked up from what they had been doing. "You said you loved me!" she shouted at Grigori, and he bounded off the bed towards her.

"You misunderstand, my darling," he said quickly, reaching out for her. "I was performing a healing ritual."

She backed away. "What kind of a fool do you think I am? You're unclothed!"

The young girl got off the bed and picked her dress up off the floor, pulling it on over her head. "Do you want me to leave, Papa?"

"Yes. Go," Rasputin said, waving his hand absently. He had already forgotten her. She was just one of his many acolytes, and he had allowed her admiration for him to lead him to sin. She had come here for spiritual enlightenment, the girl had said, and Grigori had let her in, offering her tea. Then they had spoken about the Scriptures, and then she had confessed to him that she was feeling lustful urges. Grigori had asked her who the young man was that the girl was having those thoughts about, and she had taken his hand and placed it on her breast. It was actually Rasputin himself who she felt that way about, she had told him shyly. Anthony had realized that, of course. He'd placed two fingers on her forehead earlier, under the guise of brushing a couple of errant strands of hair from her forehead. He'd known what the girl's true intentions in coming here were. But he'd had no problem with that. Like many an Angel who had found himself among humans, he had succumbed to Earthly pleasures. How had he gone all of those centuries without them? Temptation was all too easy to come by when there were young, nubile women at hand, women who worshipped him. How could he refuse their company? Why SHOULD he?

But Valentina was his priority, right now. He had wooed her, leading her to believe that he would marry her, if she were able to bring him the magic that would enable him to be revived, should one of his enemies succeed in assassinating him. Valentina had told her lover that Rowena, one of her witch mentors, had invented a revival spell. If executed properly, the spell would bring the decedent back to life, but there was one caveat: the person that was brought back to life would be unable to cause the reviver's death. Nor would the reviver be able to subsequently kill the person that they had brought back to life. This was just the way that the magic worked. Therefore, years later, when Rowena had revived her son Crowley, she would then be as incapable of killing him in the future as he would be of killing her. Rowena had never shared that little fact with anyone, because she didn't want it known that she didn't have that threat to hold over his head. Besides, she had thought that one of Fergus's many, many other enemies would have taken care of that particular little errand for her, by now.

The redheaded witch had told her and Marie's protegee about the symbiotic aspect of the revival spell back then, however, and Valentina had passed that message on to Rasputin. He'd been a little disappointed to hear that. Anthony wasn't the least bit concerned about Valentina desiring to kill him; she was completely besotted with him, he knew. If she brought him back to life, it would be because she loved him, and if she loved him, he had the upper hand. But the idea of relying on someone else's good graces to be revived made Anthony uneasy. That was too risky.

Fortunately, Valentina had told him prior to this night that Marie appeared to be on the verge of perfecting a potion that would make the imbiber immortal. And the way she had rushed in here tonight looking so happy and excited suggested that she might have achieved the goal. But Grigori needed to make it up to Valentina, now. A century in the future, the expression to use would be "damage control". He needed to do some damage control now, before he lost control of the situation.

But when his young follower left and Valentina stayed, looking at Anthony with such hurt and anger, he realized that he had no idea how to explain what she had just walked in on. Valentina was a dewy-eyed innocent, maybe, but she wasn't stupid. Anthony was, however. He should have put the latch on the door.

"Please forgive me, my dear," he said to Valentina, affecting a mournful expression. "She led me into temptation. I am but a human man, and the flesh is weak. I will pray to Almighty God for His forgiveness, and I will beg you for yours." He got down on his knees. "Please, Valentina. Please forgive me. It was but a momentary indiscretion. I hope that you and I will marry soon, and then we can be together, always."

The witch looked down at Grigori. He was imploring her for her forgiveness. Maybe she should grant it to him. Valentina had seen how many of his young female followers looked at him. They were in awe of the great Rasputin. The mystic, the holy healer who had been welcomed into the Royal family's circle. He had the ear of the Tsar and the Tsarina themselves. Some said that he had more than that, in the case of the Russian Queen. But Grigori had told Valentina that all of the rumours and sexual innuendo being made about him and the Queen, or, Heaven forbid, her children, were all lies. Just jealous people, wanting to discredit him. And she had believed him. But they were living in an era when it was deemed understandable for men to succumb to temptation from time to time, and Valentina could just picture what must have happened here tonight. The little trollop had come in here, saying that she was looking for Grigori's spiritual guidance. So, even though it was unseemly for him to receive a woman caller alone at this hour, Grigori had been unable to turn her away in her time of need. But then, all of a sudden, the girl had seized his hand and put it up her skirts, and then he had succumbed. Valentina supposed she herself should have taken some of the blame. She had been pursuing the notion of the spells so vigorously that she had been unavailable to him in that manner for some time. She -

Wait a minute. What was she doing? Valentina had been attempting to obtain those spells for Grigori! For the two of them, so that they could be married without having to live in fear. She had risked the wrath of her mentors by skulking around trying to discover their secrets, and she had actually slain Madame Laveau tonight, in a surreal moment that would haunt Valentina for the rest of her life. She was fortunate that Mama Marie hadn't put a hex on her, or worse. And what had Grigori been doing, while his supposed fiancee had been going through all of that? For him? Betraying her, that was what!

"No!" she cried out. "No! I will NOT forgive you! How could you do that to me, Grigori? I came here to share the secret of immortality with you! We were to be married!"

Anthony scrambled to his feet. "You have it?" he said eagerly.

Valentina produced the vial. It was on a chain around her neck, as Marie's had been. "Madame Laveau gave it to me. And it works, Grigori. I saw it work, with my own eyes. I brought it here so that you and I could share it, and start our new lives together. Forever."

Forever, Anthony thought. What a funny term that was. As an Angel, he was already, ostensibly, an eternal being. But it was just a matter of time until God decided to put a stop to the sinning and blaspheming, and when Castiel came, he would be armed with an Angel blade. Anthony needed that potion, and he needed it now.

"We can still do that," he said smoothly, approaching her. "I love you, Valentina. Come here, my darling."

She stood still, looking at him incredulously. "What on earth would make you think that I will give this to you, now?" she said angrily.

Anthony sighed internally. So it was going to be like that, was it? That was a real shame. He had enjoyed Valentina's company, and her sweet, loving attentions. But he was never going to marry her, and it seemed as though she was going to continue to defy him. He needed that potion. She wasn't giving him a choice.

He seized her and pulled her towards him, grabbing the chain. Valentina had been surprised by the sudden action, but she managed to struggle, reaching up to scratch his face with her fingernails. Anthony bellowed in pain, and the chain in his hand twisted around Valentina's neck as she writhed to break free. She kicked out at him, flailing her arms.

Anthony lost his temper. He twisted the chain more tightly around her neck, choking her. Valentina's hands flew to her throat, but he was too strong. She could feel the life's breath leaving her as the man she'd loved ended her existence.

Valentina's spirit waved her arms now, and the burners on the stove glowed red-hot. Wally didn't notice, at first. He was looking the other way, tightening the screws that were holding the motor for the exhaust fan in place. But suddenly, the motor came loose and dropped on his head. It was heavy, and he cursed loudly. His head swam, and Wally greyed out. He slumped, and his face made contact with the hot burners. The flesh burned off his skull, and then Wally's beard caught on fire.

Valentina smiled as the man screamed in agony. She pictured him as Grigori. She should have marched right over to the fire he'd had burning in the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and hit him over the head with it. She should have taken hot coals from the fire, and put them down his pants. Better still, she should never have gotten mixed up with Rasputin in the first place.

But now here she was, bound to the earth because Rasputin still lived, while Valentina did not. With every decade since, she had become stronger and stronger, and her outrage over what he had done to her grew. Valentina could not kill the vile individual she had known as Grigori Rasputin. But she could hurt and kill other men, just as he had hurt and killed her.

As Wally's co-workers rushed to where he'd been working in response to his screams, Valentina continued to smile. She had overheard Victoria and Tatiana talking about Tatiana's granddaughter, Nicole. The current owner of this house and the Hunters were heading to Russia right now to track Rasputin down, with the assistance of the two Angels. Valentina was hoping that the Angel who was supposed to have killed Grigori back then had a trick or two up his sleeve, though, because after he had strangled Valentina to death, Rasputin had drunk the entire vial of the potion. All of it. Madame Marie had given Valentina more than enough for two people, and he had imbibed it all himself. How could they possibly kill him?

They were finally checked in at the hotel in Moscow, and although the five of them had been travelling for well over 24 hours now, Sam and Dean were too wired to sleep. Nicole had slept on the plane. She was much more used to international travel and crossing time zones than they were, due to her past experiences going on location with the movie franchise.

The quintet met down in the hotel lobby, with the aim of going out on the town for a while. Cas had inquired of the desk clerk in flawless Russian, of course, if the man could recommend a good restaurant or bar near the hotel.

As they were walking to the place, Dean was looking at Cas.

"What is it, Dean?" the Angel asked his friend.

"How do you know how to speak all these languages?" the elder Winchester inquired.

Cas gave him a half-shrug. "When we are assigned to Earth, we can usually assimilate in that regard almost immediately," he responded.

Dean continued to stare at him suspiciously, and Nicole laughed. "Dean thinks you learn these languages before we go to these places, just so you can look good."

Cas's forehead wrinkled. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked her, puzzled. Nicole continued to smile. Cas was the only guy she knew who seemed to be truly oblivious to stuff like that.

Dean let out a frustrated breath. "Well, anyway, I hope that guy knew what he was talking about. I'm looking for a big, juicy steak, and a few hits of Russian vodka."

"The desk clerk advised that the place we're going to features those very things," Cas said happily. He had known that Dean would want to drink vodka. And why should he not? Russia was famous for it.

"Well, I don't think we're going to see any bears on unicycles, but you can take a picture of the vodka bottle and send it to Frank," Sam suggested to Gail, grinning.

"Better still, we'll send him a picture of the EMPTY vodka bottle, after we drink it," Dean chimed in. "That'll drive him nuts."

"If you guys drink a whole bottle of that stuff, we're going to have to wait until the place closes, and then zap you back to the hotel," Gail told their human friends.

"You and Cas should have a few shots with us to keep us company, and then, when we pass out, you can just roll us under the table," Nicole wisecracked.

"Oh, so THAT'S where the expression comes from," Gail said, smiling. She poked Dean. "You're going down, my friend."

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, I don't care how much of an Angel you think you are, nobody drinks Dean Winchester under the table."

"Yeah? We'll see about that," Gail said sassily. She didn't really care one way or the other, but if he was going to put it that way...

Nicole was looking at the two of them now. Sometimes they could be so juvenile. She remembered way back when Frank and Jody had gotten married, Dean and Gail had been like this at the reception. Nicole had bailed then, but she was committed to this trip, now. Oh, well. If Dean got really loaded tonight, they could make up for it once they got on the train.

Al watched the paramedics load Wally into the ambulance. He swore viciously under his breath. Two serious accidents in two days. He ran a safe jobsite. What the hell was going on, here? Wally was one of the best in the business. He had been in too much pain to talk when Al had tried to find out what had happened, and no wonder. Half of the poor guy's face was missing. But Al had noticed that the motor for the exhaust fan had been lying on the floor. He could only surmise that the thing had somehow come loose and fallen on Wally's head, knocking him onto the stove. But why had the burners been on? Had Wally just been checking the stove, to see if it worked?

First Dwayne, now Wally. Neither man was going to be in any shape to come back to work for a while. But aside from that, Al felt bad for his guys. Even if they'd been careless, that was no reason for them to have to go through the kind of pain they were experiencing now. The other men on the work crew were kind of freaked out by the whole thing, too. A couple of them had made nervous jokes about the house being haunted, or cursed. Al didn't believe in any of that kind of stuff, although he knew that some of them did. But they had a job to do, and the client had paid them well to do it. Nicole Baxter was in Russia right now, and then she would be returning to Vancouver until the filming of the TV show she worked on was over, next spring. The place was supposed to be ready by then. They'd better not fall too far behind schedule.

The humans had enjoyed a nice meal, and now, all five of them were knocking back shots of vodka. Even Cas was imbibing. He had forgotten what good, strong liquor was like. The occasional time that one of the men had persuaded him to drink alcohol with them back home, the liquor had tasted weak and watered-down. But the vodka they were drinking now was smooth and pure, and it felt warm going down.

Cas wouldn't feel its effects, of course, and nor should Gail. The couple of times her husband had seen her behave as if she were drunk were due more to mental conditioning than anything else. She was drinking alcohol; therefore, she expected to get drunk. But Cas had been an Angel for much, much longer than his wife, and he knew that both of them should be able to drink copious amounts of alcohol with impunity.

However, the same could not be said for their human companions. After her initial reticence, Nicole had decided to swim with the current, and she was feeling a little worse for the wear as a result.

"I told my staff I would bring them back some presents," Nicole said to Cas, leaning across the table. "Do you think we'll have time to go shopping tomorrow, before the train leaves?"

"I don't see why not," he said mildly. "The train is due to board at 4 p.m. I thought it would be lovely to see the sun set over the mountains, from the big picture windows on the train."

Dean was shaking his head. "Cas, you've gotta man up, Buddy. No guy says thing like 'it would be lovely'. Come on, man!"

"But, it will; you'll see," Cas insisted, missing Dean's point. Or perhaps, he was just ignoring it.

"There'll be a gift shop at the train station, I betcha," Sam said. "If you don't mind paying tourist-trap prices."

Nicole laughed. "Whatever. It's not like I have any idea what a fair price would be, anyway. I think I might buy some nesting dolls, if that's not too stereotypical. I always thought they were kind of cool."

"If you want nesting dolls, just take these two home with you," Dean said, gesturing to Cas and Gail. They were sitting on the same side of the table together as they always did, and Cas's arms were wrapped around his wife.

Gail burst out laughing. "That's funny!" she exclaimed. "Nesting dolls! That's hilarious!"

Cas kissed his wife on the cheek, tightening his arms around her. "That was very cute, Dean," he remarked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "See? There you go, again. Men don't say stuff like that, Cas. Not real men, anyway."

"Excuse me," a young man said, approaching their table. "I couldn't help but overhear. We're about to start the floor show, and I was wondering if you wish to join us."

"Join you? What do you mean?" Sam asked, curious.

The stranger smiled. "You are American men, yes?"

"Yeah," Dean replied.

"Very good. My name is Leopold. I heard you talking about things that real men do, and say. I wonder if you men would like to try what we do."

"Which is...?" Sam prompted.

"Kopak dancing," Leopold answered him.

Dean's jaw dropped open. "Dancing?" he said scornfully. "Guys don't dance!"

Leopold raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I will make you a deal, then; if the three of you can dance with our troupe for ten minutes, we will pay your cheque. But if you can't last the full ten minutes, you will make a short promotional video for our show, stating that Russian men are more masculine than American men. What do you say?"

Dean smirked. "Is he kidding with this?" he said to his companions. "He thinks we can't dance for ten minutes? What does he think we are, wimps?"

"I think you might be," Leopold said, and now he was smirking, too. He reached out and poked Dean's stomach. "You are soft," he remarked. Then he lifted up his shirt. "See? Our dancing has given me muscles. Meanwhile, you are soft, like dough."

Gail and Nicole were staring at Leopold, wide-eyed. Holy moly, Gail thought. She'd heard of six-packs, but this guy had a twelve-pack, at least. Wow.

Then, the Russian man propped his foot up on the edge of Nicole's chair, between her and Dean. "Feel my thigh," he said. It wasn't clear which one of them he was extending the invitation to. But Nicole was intrigued. She could blame it on the vodka, later. She put her hand on his leg and gave it a tentative squeeze. It was rock-hard, and she could see his pants stretching, trying to contain his muscles. Woof, Nicole thought.

"All from dancing," Leopold bragged, as if Nicole had spoken out loud.

Dean was glaring at him. "Look, 'Leotard'," he said through clenched teeth. "If you don't get that - " he gestured at the dancer's muscles " THOSE - out of here, you're gonna feel my soft American fist in your face."

"What's Kopak dancing?" Gail piped up, as Leopold removed his leg from the chair. "I've never heard of that before."

The man walked around the table and stood beside her and Cas. "It is what you would probably call 'Cossack dancing'," he told her.

"Oh!" She brightened. "I've seen that, on TV! No wonder you're so fit."

"Thank you," Leopold said, but his tone was impatient, as if he was angry that it had taken someone so long to say it. However, thus encouraged, he moved around to where Gail was sitting and Sam and Dean exchanged amused glances. This oughtta be good. The second this guy invited Gail to touch any body part of his, Cas was going to annihilate him.

"Leopold!" The man's head swivelled to look at the source of the call. "Excuse me," he said to the group. "I'll be right back, and you can let me know what you have decided."

He walked away from the table, and Dean looked at Cas. "What's Russian for 'asshat'?" he asked his friend angrily.

"I think we should try it," Sam said, downing another shot. He poked Dean in the stomach. "'You are soft, like dough'," Sam said in a surprisingly good Russian accent.

Dean smacked Sam's hand. "I swear, if one more guy pokes me in the stomach, he's gonna pull back a stump," he growled.

"What do you think, my love?" Cas asked Gail.

"I would give a small fortune to see you guys do that," she responded, grinning. Gail looked at Nicole. "Are you with me?"

"Are you kidding? I see your small fortune, and raise you a large one," Nicole said eagerly. She kissed Dean on the cheek. "I don't think you're soft, at all," she told him. "I think you should go out there and show those jerks how it's done. Ten minutes, and our bill is paid? Sounds like one hell of a deal, to me!"

Dean poured another shot for them all. "OK, then, it's a done deal. We're gonna show those guys how tough we American men are." He picked up his shot glass. "Cheers."

They all toasted. Cas was smiling. He was pretty certain that Dean had no idea what actual Kopak dancing was. This should be interesting. Castiel himself hadn't done it in years. Leopold had been arrogant, but he hadn't been wrong: the type of dancing the Russian man had been referring to required great strength and stamina. There was nothing "wimpy" or effeminate about it. Whether or not the three of them would be able to last ten minutes was very much in question.

Leopold returned to their table, accompanied by another young man. "This is Sergei," he told the quintet.

Predictably enough, Dean said something under his breath about the last syllable of the newcomer's name, and Sam smirked briefly.

The Russian men didn't react verbally, but Sergei placed a bottle of clear liquid in the middle of the table. "This is the strongest vodka in Moscow," he announced. "We will all drink, and then, we will dance."

Gail and Nicole looked at each other, shaking their heads. Oh, brother. The women were eager to see the men try their hands - or maybe it should be their legs - at Cossack dancing, but this kind of macho posturing was all a little too ridiculous for them. But they drank a shot, and so did their companions. The dancers hadn't been kidding about the strength of the alcohol, though. Yikes. Those guys' tolerance must be really high, if they could drink this stuff and then do a dance routine. Maybe it loosened up their muscles, or something.

The men poured another round of shots, then another. But after that, Cas put his hands on top of their shot glasses. "Enough," he said firmly. He could see that the Winchesters were feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he didn't want the brothers hurting themselves out there.

"We only dance when the bottle is empty," Leopold insisted.

"Fine. Have it your way," Cas said. He grabbed the bottle and upended it, chugging the contents. Then he banged the empty bottle back down on the table. "There. Let's dance." He stood up.

Sam and Dean laughed at the Russian mens' astonished expressions. They stood from their seats too, weaving just a little.

"Break a leg," Nicole said, grinning. She was fairly drunk now. Boy, it was a good thing she wasn't the one who was going to try dancing. That would probably be a disaster, right now. She looked at Dean. How drunk was he, anyway? "On second thought, forget I said that," she amended hastily.

"Don't split your pants, doughboy," Gail quipped, prompting Dean to shoot her the one-finger salute. She laughed.

The women sat together, facing their chairs towards the open area of the floor, where the show was set to begin. "Do you have your cell phone with you?" Gail asked Nicole.

"Of course," Dean's girlfriend said happily, reaching for her purse.

Leopold, Sergei and three other men stood there, and they shook hands with Cas and the Winchesters. Then the dancers announced to the crowd, in English, that they were going to teach their new American friends some rudimentary Kopak dance. The customers clapped and cheered, and the dancers all smiled pleasantly.

Gail was eagerly looking forward to the display, but she was also a little relieved. The way that Leopold had initially approached them, she had been concerned that there might end up being a fight between the men. But they seemed to be getting along okay, now. Maybe drinking that vodka together had been like a rite of passage, or something. Male bonding.

"First, you crouch down like this," Sergei told the men. He squatted, motioning for Cas and the brothers to do the same. Dean and Cas did, but Sam looked dubious.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean encouraged his younger brother. "Just pretend you're holding a catcher's mitt."

"It will be a bit more difficult for you, because your limbs are so long," one of the other dancers said to Sam. "Here, let me help you." He took Sam's hand, leading him slowly to the crouching position.

Dean was highly amused. "Hey, Nicole!" he called out. "Are you getting this?"

"I sure am!" she replied gleefully, holding up her cell phone.

The dancers showed the men how to bounce up and down in the squatting position while maintaining their balance, and then they threw their arms around each others' shoulders.

"Now we will kick out, alternating: left, right, left, right," Leopold announced loudly.

To their credit, Nicole and Gail's companions tried. They really did. But Sam fell on his butt almost immediately, Dean managed to kick out once and then he joined his brother on the floor, and Cas did two kicks, but then he ended up in the heap, too.

Gail and Nicole looked at each other, and then they burst out laughing. "Way to go, guys!" Nicole exclaimed. "Next stop, Radio City!"

"Up top," Gail said, and the ladies high-fived.

"OK, OK, we'll get this," Dean said, scrambling to his feet.

"Are you all right, Dean?" Cas asked his friend anxiously.

"Yeah. Fine," Dean said irritably. His butt hurt, and his thigh muscles were already sore, but he wasn't about to let on. This was a matter of national pride.

"I'm fine too, Cas," Sam said dryly, rising slowly to his feet.

"I think I know what the problem is," Cas told the Russian men.

"Do you?" Sergei said, his lips twitching.

"Yes," Cas said confidently. "I think, if we are able to try it individually, we may have more success."

Sam nodded vigorously. "That makes sense. The Domino Effect," he remarked. "If one of you goes down, the others go down with him."

"What do you mean, one of US?" Dean said, resisting the urge to remind Sam who had actually fallen down first.

Gail was biting the insides of her cheeks. She hated to tell them this, but...she really didn't think THAT was the problem.

Neither did the Russian dancers, but they were, presumably, too diplomatic to say so. "All right," Leopold said calmly. "Go ahead and try that." He gestured to Sam to proceed.

Sam slowly lowered himself into the crouched position. Sure. It was easy for them to say. He was taller than all of them, he thought sarcastically. Put together. Still, he wanted to try it one more time. Sam prided himself on being in fairly good shape. So he bounced up and down experimentally a couple of times, and when he felt ready, he kicked: left, right, left...

"Owww!" Sam yelled, grabbing his leg. "Charley Horse!"

As he straightened to stand, massaging his leg, the Russian men looked at each other, puzzled. Whether it was due to the slang expression he'd used or the fact that he had cramped up so quickly, Gail wasn't sure. But she and Nicole were valiantly trying not to laugh again. It was difficult not to, though.

As Sam excused himself and limped back to their table, Leopold was looking at Dean and Cas, shaking his head. "It appears that you have a video to make for us," he said, starting to smile.

But Dean was holding up his hand. "Just wait," he said. "You didn't say ALL of us had to last the ten minutes."

"Actually, I did," Leopold remarked. "But, I'll tell you what: if even one of you lasts the ten minutes, I will honour our deal. How is that?"

Dean looked at Cas. "We got this, right, Cas?"

The Angel looked at him dubiously. "I'm not sure that we do, Dean. I haven't danced like this in over a century."

Oops. He realized what he had just blurted out. The Russian dancers were looking curiously at Cas now. "I mean...it feels like a century ago," Cas said awkwardly. Dean rolled his eyes. Not exactly a smooth recovery. It was a good thing Cas didn't get drunk, or he'd probably be telling these guys all about having been here on Earth for the first...well, everything.

But the clarification, however lame it had been, seemed to be enough. The men laughed, and Leopold said, "Well, what do you say, my friends? Do you want to try again?"

"Sure," Dean said confidently. "Come on, Cas. We can do it. I know we can. Winchesters don't quit. Right?"

"Right," Cas replied, touched by what Dean had said. If Dean had that type of determination, Cas could, too.

The two of them crouched again, and they performed a few bounces and kicks without falling down. Gail and Nicole looked at each other, impressed. They cheered their men on as Sam made a face, still rubbing his leg.

"Now, we'll try it to some music," Sergei called out, making a gesture. Loud music began to play. The tempo was lively, but not too fast. Dean and Cas started to dance again. Nicole was filming them on her phone, and Gail was laughing delightedly, clapping her hands in time to the music. "They're really good!" she shouted, on top of the music.

Sam scowled. "I could do that too, if my leg hadn't cramped up on me," he told the women. They nodded, humouring him.

Then the music's tempo sped up a bit, and the Russian dancers flanked Cas and Dean, joining in the dance. It was mesmerizing.

"I have so many inappropriate comments running around in my head right now, I have no idea what to do with myself," Gail quipped.

"Wow," Nicole said, open-mouthed. She poured herself another shot of vodka, knocking it back. Suddenly, her mouth was very dry. She was having some extremely naughty thoughts about the way that Dean was bouncing up and down. She looked at how tight his pants appeared when he flexed his muscles. "I think we should get a bag of walnuts on our way back to the hotel," she said to Gail. "I need to see if Dean can crack a few open with those leg muscles."

Gail looked at her for a moment, and then she burst out laughing. Sam chuffed out a frustrated breath, standing from his chair. "I have to go to the washroom," he announced. He limped away from the table as the women clutched at each other, giggling.

Gail had been having those same kinds of thoughts, though. This was a whole new side to Cas that she was seeing now. She wondered when he had done this type of dancing before. She would have to ask him about that. Wow. Look at his thigh muscles. Maybe she would have to borrow some of those walnuts. Yikes.

The men slung their arms around each others' shoulders again, and this time, the guys were keeping up with them. Dean was grinning. Gail was happy to see him having so much fun. She would have to make sure to tease him about this later on, but right now, it was doing her heart good to see him like that. Cas, too. They'd sure had enough reasons to frown, in recent months.

The music sped up again, and Cas and Dean hung in there for another minute or two. But then, inevitably, their energy started flagging and they collapsed, panting from their exertions. Cas could have cheated to prolong things, of course. He could have used his Angelic strength, or if he decided to be really blatant about it, he could have simply and subtly levitated his way through the dance. But he had too much honour to do anything like that, and he had been enjoying the physical workout. But now, he wondered if he and Dean had managed to go the full ten minutes. He looked at his friend, then extended his hand to help Dean up off the floor. Dean had impressed Cas, and he had surprised him, too. Many had underestimated Dean over the years, in a number of different ways, and many had paid a price for it. Cas smiled. A determined Dean Winchester was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

The dancers gathered around to help the men to their feet, and they all trooped back to the table just as Sam returned. "Did you guys last the full ten?" he asked them.

Dean flopped down on his chair, grabbing a napkin and mopping his neck and face with it. "Hey, Sammy. You OK there, or should we call an ambulance?" he panted, smirking.

Cas was trying to catch his breath too, as Gail handed him a napkin. He flashed her a smile and took it, doing the same as Dean.

"I take it all back," Dean said to the Russian men. "You guys are manly as hell."

"And so are you," Leopold said, clapping his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Order anything you want. It's my treat." He smiled at them all. "It was a pleasure to meet you, and to dance with you. You're not so soft, after all. Enjoy your evening."

The Russians walked away from their table. "High praise, indeed," Cas said dryly, tossing the napkin on the table. Nicole checked her phone: The timer on the video she had taken read 9:09. They all laughed at Cas's comment, and Dean looked around for the server.

Chapter 3 - The Nature Of The Beast

As the man who thought he was baby Brian's father was boarding the Trans-Siberian Express train in Moscow, the man who actually was Brian's dad was knocking on Becky's door.

Because Cas and Gail had turned back time when they'd used the last page of the Book of Life, this was Vincent's first visit since the baby had been born. He had been laying low in the Caribbean, doing his thing, biding his time. Vincent hated babies, anyway. They were needy, and noisy, and messy. He'd been planning to wait a few years to see the kid. Like, maybe when he'd graduated college. But Vincent had been curious, so he had done a blood ritual, one of the ones that was supposed to predict the future. And he'd seen a couple of very interesting things.

The first thing the vision had shown him was young Becky in her house, dodging household objects that were flying across the room. Hmmm. Intriguing. And actually, now that Vincent looked closer, Becky didn't appear so young any more. He grinned. Kids. No wonder he wanted to stay away. Every parent that Vincent had ever seen looked stressed and worn out. Every. Single. One.

But, wait: now he could see the baby, and the sight transfixed him. The kid was the one making the furniture fly around the house. And when Vincent peered through the dark red of the cup of blood he was reading, much like a psychic would read tea leaves, he could see that the baby was laughing.

OK; now this, he had to see. Vincent had set it up so that the kid he'd fathered with Sam's little stalker would be able to infiltrate the bunker, when he got older. And he had expected the baby to have special powers, because all of his offspring had special powers. But there was just something about the terror on Becky's face, and the gleeful expression on the baby's...

The door swung open to Vincent's knock, and his mouth dropped open when he saw Becky. She was wearing a ratty old housecoat and pajamas, her hair was sticking up in several different directions, and she had what appeared to be blood on her hands, and face. Well, well. This got more interesting by the second.

"You look like shit," he said, smirking.

Becky said nothing. She just turned her back on Vincent and walked towards the kitchen. He followed.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," Gail's father remarked.

"That's because I'm not," Becky said in a dull voice. "I figured you'd come, sooner or later."

They entered the kitchen, and Becky gestured to the cabinet that was closest to the fridge. "If you want a drink, help yourself. I'll join you, once Brian is fed, and I clean up after him."

"Look, Becky, I came here to check him out, because I was curious. But I'm not interested in spit, or drool, or anything that fills diapers. Are we clear?" Vincent said coolly.

She stared at him for a moment, and then she began to laugh. Vincent was thrown off balance. He hated that feeling. "What's so damn funny?" he asked her angrily.

"Nothing," Becky answered, rather nonsensically. She went to the sink and stared down into it, standing motionless. "Absolutely nothing. Everything is just great." She continued to stand there, as if trying to figure out what to do next. Then she sighed heavily. "I'd better go get Brian. He doesn't like to wake up hungry. I'll be right back."

As Becky left the room, Vincent's mind started to race. Just what in the holy hell was going on, here? Or maybe he should amend that to UNholy hell, because that wasn't jam on Becky's housecoat, it was blood. Fresh blood, too. Vincent ought to know. And what was more, he could still smell it. He moved over to the sink, and his jaw dropped again. There were body parts in it. Human body parts, marinating in blood.

Vincent started to grin.

They had stashed the bags in their respective compartments on the train, then emerged again, to congregate in the dining car. Their trip had officially begun about twenty minutes ago, but Cas had advised that the sun should be setting shortly, and that was a sight that none of them wanted to miss.

Dean ordered a round of drinks, but after they all toasted the beginning of their trip and watched the sunset, he was planning to have a good dinner, and then retire early. That vodka had kicked his ass last night, he'd admitted to Nicole this morning. The two of them had gone up to their hotel room the night before and stumbled into bed, still mainly clothed. She hadn't had to worry about him being too drunk to have sex, because she'd been too drunk to even think about it. They'd both had killer hangovers this morning, but the fun they'd had the night before was worth it, in Nicole's opinion. She was looking forward to their alone time tonight, though.

As they were sipping at their drinks, Cas said, "The train trip takes about 7 days to get to the end of the line, which is Vladivostok. Ekaterinburg is on the way. I suggest we stop there, and visit the Church On The Blood. I would imagine there will be some information on the Romanovs there."

They all nodded in agreement. Nicole felt a bit of a flutter in her stomach. This whole thing was so surreal. Here they were on the other side of the world, about to make a pilgrimage to the site of the massacre of a famous Royal family she'd never known she had. Then, after they did that, they were going deep into Siberia, to try to find the notorious Rasputin, who was actually an Angel named Anthony, who Cas was supposed to have killed back in 1916. Whose life WAS this, all of a sudden?

"Wow. Look at that," Gail remarked. The sun was setting now, and the sky was turning red and yellow and orange. The snow-capped mountains rose high in the distance, as a counterpoint to the vibrant colours.

The five of them stared out the picture window beside their table, enjoying the spectacle. Dean put his arms around Nicole, and Gail snuggled against Cas.

Nicole glanced at Sam, who was alone, of course. It was such a shame. Sam was tall, handsome, smart, and sweet. There must be lots of women who would jump at the chance to be with him. But Dean's brother seemed to have some really bad luck in that department. It was an open secret in their circle that the younger Winchester had had a crush on Gail for just about forever, but there was no way that was ever going to happen. So then Sam and Quinn had gotten together and they had been fine for a while, until things had gotten a little uncomfortable when Quinn had had that vision of Nicole as a monster. As it turned out, the vision had been technically correct, but it had still made things weird between her and Dean, and Sam and Quinn. And then, tragically, Quinn had been murdered. The case had never been solved, either. And now, of course, Sam was Brian's father, although it seemed to Nicole that Sam and Becky had no kind of relationship with each other, only with the baby.

Sam was thinking about the same thing now, because he couldn't help but notice the two couples "canoodling", as Gail would call it. He sighed inwardly. It was always tough to be the only single one in any small group like this. It had almost always been just him and Dean, the two bachelor brothers when they'd been younger, and that had been just fine with both of them. Not very many guys in their 20s were that interested in a committed relationship, anyway. They had been on the road a lot more in those days, and the brothers had both played the field. A lot.

But now, whether they liked it or not, Sam had to face the fact that he and Dean were middle-aged, and their tomcatting days were behind them. Which was all right with Sam. He found himself missing the type of companionship he was witnessing now. It was really too bad that he would never be able to bring himself to have a relationship with Becky. There was an instant family, right there. But, quite frankly, Sam would never be able to be with anyone of her...limited intellectual capacity. There. That was the diplomatic way to say it. Maybe he should take the love he wanted so much to give to a woman and give it to Brian, instead. When they got back from this trip, he would have to talk to Becky about their parenting arrangements, going forward.

Becky brought the baby downstairs and put his bassinet on the kitchen table. Vincent had fixed himself that drink, and he was sitting there now, still smirking. This was just too good.

"Do you need some financial help, Becky?" he quipped, nodding towards the sink. "It looks like it costs an arm and a leg to feed a baby, these days."

Vincent was pleased at his own wit, but Becky was not amused. She scowled at him on her way to the sink to prepare Brian's meal. Vincent wasn't deterred. "So, who are you having for dinner, tonight?" he wisecracked. He should really be writing these down.

Becky wheeled on him. "This is all your fault!" she berated him.

"Mine?" he said innocently. "How could it be mine? I've been in the Caribbean."

"You know what I'm talking about," she said through gritted teeth. "And now, thanks to you, I'm a murderer."

"Thanks to me?" Vincent said calmly, taking another sip of his drink. "I guess you've forgotten about a certain tall, psychic woman, who Sam liked better than you. You're the one who hacked Quinn to pieces, not me."

"Maybe, but you're the one who drugged me and got me pregnant!" Becky shouted.

Vincent stared at her for a second, surprised. Then, he shrugged. It didn't really matter any more. The kid was here now, and there was nothing that Bimbo Becky could do about it. If the baby was already munching on the neighnours, it was way too late. "So how did Sam take the devastating news?" he asked her sarcastically.

Becky stood there quietly, and Vincent started to grin again. "You didn't tell him," he needled her, "did you?" "And I'M supposed to be the bad one, here. Where is Fake Baby Daddy now, anyway?"

"He's in Russia, with Dean and Nicole, and Cas and Gail," she responded.

Vincent's eyes narrowed. "Russia? What the hell are they doing there?"

"I don't know," Becky said crossly. "Sam doesn't tell me anything."

Vincent lifted an eyebrow. "You're aware of the irony, right?"

Brian started to fuss, and Becky's eyes widened. "You'd better let me feed him, or he'll freak out," she said. She turned her back on Vincent and the baby and moved to the cupboard below the sink. She got out the cutting board and took a bloody forearm out of the sink. Vincent noted with fascination that it wasn't very big. Was it from a child? And just how proud was HE, right now?

One of the big butcher knives came sailing out of the top drawer, and into Becky's hand. She began to chop up the arm, seemingly oblivious to the creepiness of the situation.

But then, things got worse. Brian started to cry lustily, and Becky yelled, "I'm going as fast as I can!" Now, two more butcher knives floated out of the drawer. One hovered in midair by Becky's face, and she sped up even more, splashing blood all over the place.

The other knife went flying across the room past Vincent's ear, imbedding itself into the wall. "You little bastard," the man said, but he sounded more impressed than angry.

Becky ran over to Brian with a few bits of flesh in her hand. She poked a couple into his gaping mouth, trembling. "There," she said in a shaky voice that was probably meant to be soothing, but it came out sounding almost defiant, instead. "There."

Brian ate what she fed him, and then he said, "More." Becky did an about-face and rushed to get a few more pieces. Then, while her son was working on those, she filled a bottle with the blood and brought it to the infant.

Vincent reached for the butcher knife that was imbedded in the wall behind him. He seized it by the handle and wiggled it back and forth until it came free. Now, Becky was giving the kid the blood-filled bottle. This was incredible. Vincent was honestly speechless at the moment.

But Becky wasn't. She glared at Vincent. "Now you see what I've been dealing with, here," she told him. "The question is: what are we going to do about it?"

Sam sat alone in the bar car now, nursing a vodka on the rocks. Dean and Nicole and Cas and Gail had excused themselves to go to their respective compartments, but he didn't see much point in going to his. It was too early to sleep. Not that the others would be doing much sleeping. Actually, Cas and Gail wouldn't be doing any at all. He sighed. Good for them.

It was dark now, and the bar car was dimly lit. They were going through mountain passes, so there was no appreciable light outside. There was really nothing to do but think. The train had Wi-Fi, but it was hit-and-miss in the mountains. He guessed he could go to his room and read a book, or something. He'd brought several. It was a good thing Nicole was here with Dean, or Sam's brother would no doubt be whining about the lack of things to do on the train.

But his chair was plush enough, and Sam had always been better than his brother at being on his own. He'd sure spent a lot of time being self-reliant when he was a kid, and Dean and their dad were on a Hunt. He'd had an active, agile mind, even back then.

Now, Sam started to think about what they were going to do if and when they found Rasputin. Would Cas be able to intimidate the guy into giving them whatever secrets he might have? But, why would he? If Rasputin, or Anthony, or whatever the hell his name was these days really was immortal, what could Cas possibly threaten him with?

As Sam was puzzling over that thought, a young man named Yuri walked into the bar car. "Can I get you anything?" the server asked him.

"No, I'm just looking for my girlfriend," Yuri replied. "Did she come through here?" He described her to the woman. "She's supposed to be in our compartment, but she's not there."

Sam rolled his eyes briefly. Et tu, Yuri? Wasn't there anybody on this train who was single besides Sam? But he and the server both shook their heads. They hadn't seen a young girl come in here.

Yuri left the bar car, presumably to continue his search, and Sam went back to his musings.

"What do you mean, 'what are we going to do about it'?" Vincent asked Becky indifferently.

Now it was Becky who was speechless. She looked down at her - no, THEIR - son, who was sucking eagerly at a bottle that was filled with human blood. Then she looked back up at Vincent, astonished. Finally, she said, "I can't keep doing this. He wants more and more and more, all the time. I've done horrible things, just trying to make him happy." She started to cry. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Because I could," Vincent said arrogantly. "Because you're a selfish little bitch, and I'm an amoral bastard. Because the God Squad have had it their way for far too long." He looked at Brian, a small smile playing on his lips. "My son, the Beast of the Apocalypse."

"What?!" Becky exclaimed.

Vincent's smile grew. "You've been a great little brood mare, Becky. Just terrific. Just wait till he gets a little older. Then he'll be able to feed himself, and you'll be off the hook." The Voodoo Priest was thoughtful now. "It's a shame he's still a baby, though. He's still vulnerable, right now. If anybody found out about him..."

"I haven't told anybody," Becky said in a subdued tone. "I couldn't. I can't."

"Good. Make sure you keep it that way," Vincent said sternly. "I'll tell you what: When he gets older, I'll take him off your hands. I have to teach him our ways, anyway. But I'm not taking him now. I have no interest in raising a baby. That's your job."

"I'm so sick of it," Becky sighed. "Diapers, crying, burping, feeding...I wish he was older. Right now."

Vincent shrugged. "Sucks to be you," he said dispassionately.

"Wait a minute," Becky said suddenly. "I just thought of something."

"I'll alert the presses," Vincent said with nasty humour, knocking back the rest of his drink.

"Here," she said, taking the bottle from Brian and handing it to Vincent. "Finish feeding him."

He laughed derisively. "We've met, right? What part of 'I don't want anything to do with babies' was unclear to you?"

Becky shrugged, rising from her chair. "Fine. Suit yourself. But if he's still hungry, you're not going to like what happens next." She turned her back on him and went to the cabinet above the stove.

Vincent considered that. Part of him really did want to see what else the kid could do. But the other, more sensible part, told him he'd better play ball for now. The last thing he wanted to do was call any attention to the situation here. This was the happiest that Vincent had ever been, in his entire, ancient existence. So he stuck the bottle of blood back in his son's mouth and watched proudly as the baby drank eagerly from it.

But Vincent was about to get even happier. Becky brought Rowena's spell book over to the table, plunking it down.

"What's that?" he said, smirking. "The Bloody Apron? 101 Easy Recipes For Human Flesh?"

Becky realized the paper cookbook cover was still around the book, so she tore it off. "Have you ever heard of an aging spell?" she asked the Voodoo Priest.

Vincent's smile grew even wider.

Gail had to admit it: she was chilly. Finally, a trip where she was actually cold, instead of sweltering all the time.

She and Cas had just finished making love for the second time, and he was cuddling her now. Gail wasn't the only one who was happy that it was so cold in their compartment. He loved to cuddle his wife, and the colder she got, the more he could wrap himself around her.

He had been kissing her softly on the forehead when there was a light knocking sound on the door. "Is that what I think it is?" Gail asked her husband. He smiled. She was buried in the covers, so her voice was muffled. All that was visible of her at the moment was her forehead, and a tuft of hair above it. She'd told him that if he wanted to access any other part of her, he would have to burrow under the covers. Cas had been about to do just that when they heard the knock.

He sighed when the sound was repeated. "I'm afraid so, my love."

"Don't answer it. Maybe whoever it is will go away," Gail mumbled.

But there was another knock; louder, this time. "Just a moment," Cas called out. "Stay where you are. I'll find out what Dean wants," Cas said to Gail, slipping out of bed. He grabbed his pants.

"This had better be important," Gail said irritably.

Cas agreed. He shrugged on a shirt and went to the door. It was a pity these trains didn't have Do Not Disturb signs for the compartments. Not that Dean would be deterred by one of those, of course.

But when he opened the door a crack, Cas was surprised to see a young man standing there instead, with a worried expression on his face.

"Hi, my name is Yuri," he said. He showed Cas the picture of Raisa that he'd taken from the frame on the dresser in their room. It was a lot easier than describing her to everyone. She still hadn't come back, and he was growing increasingly frantic. "Have you seen my girlfriend? I can't find her anywhere."

Cas peered at the photograph. "I'm sorry, but she doesn't look familiar," he told the young man. "My wife and I really haven't seen anyone, except for our friends. We've been in here for a while now, just the two of us."

"Could you show the picture to your wife, just in case?" Yuri asked Cas earnestly. "Please?"

Gail had gotten out of bed quickly and gone to the wardrobe, taking a fluffy robe off the hanger and putting it on. She padded to the door, flipping on a light on her way. "Let me see," she said.

Cas opened the door wider. Yuri showed the photo to Gail, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but she doesn't look familiar to me, either. What's her name?"

"Raisa," Yuri replied. "I have no idea where she could be. She said she was going to get us a snack from the restaurant. But I waited and waited, and she never came back."

"Well, she's got to be somewhere," Gail said in a reasonable tone. "We're on a moving train, here. There's only so many places she could be." She and Cas exchanged glances. "We'll help you look for her," Gail went on. "Just give me a minute to get dressed."

A couple of minutes later, the trio were moving down the hallway, knocking on all the compartment doors. Sam was just coming to his room from the bar. "What are you guys doing here?" he said, surprised.

The Angels told him, and Sam's brow furrowed. "You mean you still haven't found your girlfriend?"

"No, and I'm starting to freak out, here," Yuri said nervously.

Sam joined the group, and they continued to knock on doors.

Dean and Nicole's compartment was near the end of the corridor. He answered the door bare-chested, hair sticking up in all directions. Gail's lips twitched furiously. She made a mental note to tease Nicole about it later.

Yuri was extremely agitated now. He had searched the entire length of the train, he told them. Where could Raisa be?

It was then that they heard the scream.

Vincent was scanning the spell book avidly. Rowena. What an impressive woman. Look at all the great stuff in here. She'd even worked out that revival spell she'd been telling him about at the Solstice celebration, by the looks of it. Good for her.

The Aging spell looked simple enough. Becky didn't bother telling Vincent she'd tried it before. She didn't want him laughing at her. Besides, if he could get this done, she was all for it. The sooner, the better. She would worry about the consequences later on.

"I think we'll make him around...nine, or so," Vincent mused aloud. "Old enough to do things with, but young enough for me to teach."

"How are we going to explain it to everyone, though?" Becky fretted.

"Explain it?" Vincent said blankly, still looking at the ingredients for the spell.

"Uh...yeah," Becky said, incredulous. "When Sam left for Russia, his son was a baby. What do I tell him when he comes back, and Brian's suddenly nine?"

Vincent looked up from the book. "HIS son? You're kidding me with this, right?" He laughed scornfully. "Don't you get it, Becky? Your little romance novel fantasy is over. As soon as we do this, Sam's opinion ceases to matter. If it ever did. I don't give a crap about any one of them, not any more. They don't matter. Not the Angels, not the Winchesters, not even God. My son is the Beast, and we're gonna set the earth to burn. Now, either get on board, or get the hell out of my way. I've got a Prince to raise."

Becky stood there looking at him. She was indecisive, now. She'd known she couldn't continue the lie indefinitely, of course. But suddenly, she was on a runaway train, and it was going at full speed. Where was it going? Did she even want to know?

She sighed heavily. Wasn't she damned, anyway? "What do you want me to do?" she asked him dully.

One of the restaurant's employees had found Raisa's body in the kitchen, underneath the island they used as a chopping block. Julie had entered the room and flipped on the overhead lights, and she had seen a huge, bearlike creature crouched over the unfortunate girl. Its snout had been buried in Raisa's neck. It looked up, startled, as Julie screamed. Then it had lumbered away, knocking over a set of pots as it exited the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were looking at each other. A bearlike creature? Had they caught a case here, of all places? Or had Julie been smoking too many of the herbs they used to season the stew here?

Cas, Gail and Nicole were trying to comfort poor Yuri, as Conductor Plushenko entered the kitchen, cinching his robe tightly around his waist. "What is the commotion, here?" the man asked in Russian.

Dean looked at Cas, and his Angel friend gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Not only did Cas speak fluent Russian, but he could distract the guy while Sam and Dean got the actual facts of the case.

Luckily, Julie was an American student on a gap year, who spoke perfect English. The Winchesters took her to the dining car and sat her down at a table there. She was crying and shaking like a leaf, but otherwise coherent.

The brothers had given their FBI names as Agents Smith and Jones, and the young girl hadn't batted an eyelash. It was just as well; they hadn't brought their suits with them, or any ID.

"You probably think I'm nuts, but I know what I saw," the girl insisted.

"Can you describe it to us again?" Sam asked her, and he started to make notes on a napkin.

"It sort of looked like a bear trying to act human," Julie advised. "I know how crazy that sounds."

"Not necessarily," Sam told her. "We've seen all kinds of wild things in our line of work."

"Do us a favour, though," Dean said in a serious tone. "Until we figure out what's going on here, don't go anywhere by yourself, OK? None of you. Use the buddy system."

"OK, Agent Jones," she said, wide-eyed.

"I'll walk you back to your room," Sam offered.

Dean went back to the kitchen, where Cas and the train's conductor were talking quietly. As soon as Plushenko saw Dean, he tipped the elder Winchester a salute, and then left the kitchen.

"I told him that you and Sam and I were all FBI Agents, here on a holiday," Cas told Dean. "I also told him that we would apprehend the killer, if he gave us a free hand to do the investigation."

But Dean waved his hand, dismissing what Cas was saying because now, he was thinking about something else: "Where are Nicole and Gail?"

"I sent them with Yuri, to his room," Cas advised his friend. "He was very upset, of course. Gail said that she would use her powers to calm him down."

"We'd better get over there," Dean said, grabbing Cas by the arm. "Until we know what we're dealing with, I don't want them going anywhere without one of us."

Cas was alarmed. "Why? What do you think we're dealing with?"

"I dunno, Cas, but if it's some kind of a monster we've never seen before, do you really want it making an appetizer out of your wife before she can get her blade out? Or how about Nicole? For all you know, it could be this Yuri guy!" Dean berated him.

Cas's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that. He grabbed Dean by the sleeve and winked them both to Yuri's room immediately, after calling Gail on their frequency to make sure that she and Nicole were all right.

Gail and Nicole met the men in the hallway outside Yuri's room. "He's sleeping," Cas's wife said softly. "I put him under. He was so upset that I figured he should get some rest. He's going to get off the train at Ekaterinburg tomorrow, and call his parents. He told us that Raisa doesn't have any family. He said he would pay for her funeral, but I told him we have to do an investigation, first."

"I saw you and Sam looking at each other," Nicole said to Dean. "What are you guys thinking?"

Dean frowned. "I don't know. We're gonna have to do some research, when we get off the train tomorrow."

"It's a bauk," they heard a voice say. Startled, the four of them looked around. Sam was coming down the corridor, accompanied by an elderly man. It was he who had spoken.

"A what?" Dean said, peering at the newcomer.

"A bauk," Tomas repeated. "It's an animal-like creature, from Serbian mythology. It hides in dark places and waits to seize a victim. It carries its prey to a quiet location, so it can feed. My brother was abducted by one from our village, when we were children. They found his partially eaten body in the forest. My grandfather said it was a bauk who had taken him, so the men in the village lit torches and went after it. They weren't able to find it. They said the light and the noise must have scared it away. Unfortunately, it was too late for my brother, just as it was too late for that young girl, tonight. You must find it, or it will continue to feed."

They all stared at him, astonished. Who needed Wi-Fi? They had their very own walking, talking Google search engine, right here.

"OK, well, it shouldn't be too hard to find," Sam mused. "The question is: how do we kill it, when we do?"

They all looked at Tomas, but the old man shrugged. "How should I know? Do I look like Google to you?" he said irascibly. "I told you what I know because I wanted to help, but I have no idea how to kill one of those things."

"I guess we'd better get that conductor guy to call the cops, when we get to the train station in the morning," Dean said thoughtfully.

"You're wasting your time, if you do that," Tomas said bluntly. "They'll tell you that there's no such thing as a bauk. It's a make-believe monster, made up to scare children into being obedient. That's what they'll say." He leaned forward, staring at them all intently. "But my brother's wounds were not imaginary. I overheard my parents talking with the authorities, after Drajko's body was found. My brother's sternum was torn open by what appeared to be a large set of very powerful jaws, and half of his organs were eaten."

They were silent, visualizing the horrifying sight. Tomas looked up at Sam. "Agent Smith here tells me that you are all from the FBI, and that you specialize in unusual cases, back in the United States."

"We do," Cas said, confirming the latter part. Nicole smiled tightly. Now that she knew Cas better, she knew that it went against his grain to lie. If he wanted to avoid telling something to someone, he was adroit at evasion, or omission. But straight falsehoods made him uncomfortable. It would have been awkward to contradict Sam by admitting that they were not FBI Agents. Obviously, the old man had just assumed that status applied to all five of them. Nicole made a mental note to ask Dean teasingly if she should get a suit and a badge. But then she felt badly about having a humorous thought when a young girl had just been killed so gruesomely here tonight. She guessed she'd been hanging around this group for so long that the black humour they sometimes used was contagious.

"If you want a little advice from someone who's been alive longer than all of you have, I suggest you take matters into your own hands when it comes to this creature," Tomas said to the group now. "Maybe you will be able to take care of what our own town constables refused to. As for me, I'm going to have some schnapps, and then go back to bed. Good luck."

Then he walked away, leaving a bemused quintet behind.

"If he thinks he's older than all of us, he and Cas should compare historical notes, sometime," Sam quipped.

But, Dean topped him. The elder Winchester shook his head, scowling. "Great. Nicole and I were just getting comfortable, and now I'm being bauk-blocked."

Their heads all swivelled to look at him. "Really?" Sam said dryly.

Dean shrugged. "I don't care what you say, that was funny. Look at Gail. She's trying not to laugh."

"I was just wondering when Frank got here," Gail said, rolling her eyes. But Dean was right; that HAD been funny.

"And Cas probably doesn't even get the joke," Dean added.

"No, I do, Dean," Cas insisted, nodding. "It's a play on words, based on the slang expression that refers to a situation when a man is being prevented from - "

"OK, OK, never mind," Dean said with a touch of irritation in his voice. "The question is, how do we kill the son of a bitch, once we find it?"

"You know what?" Nicole piped up. "The old guy said the villagers scared it away with noise and lit torches, right?"

"If that isn't an old horror movie cliche, I don't know what is," Sam joked. "But I see what you're getting at. Julie said she turned the overhead lights on in the kitchen, and she screamed, too. Then it ran away. Lights and noise. The common denominator."

"So if we ramp up the bright lights, and the noise, we might be able to kill it," Dean added.

"I wonder if the cast of 'Stomp' is in town," Gail quipped.

"No, but you know who is?" Sam said excitedly.

"No, who?" Gail asked him, curious.

"Wilma Fedchenkov," Sam replied. "I heard some people talking about her in the bar, earlier. She's a famous Russian opera singer. It's rumoured she has a nine-octave range, and she can sustain a high note for a very long time."

"We can get her to assist us. We will flush this bauk out of its hiding place," Cas contributed. "I will go and speak with Conductor Plushenko, to obtain his cooperation in stopping the train. Once we have the monster cornered, I'll teleport it outside, onto the tracks. Between the bright headlights of the train and the high-pitched note, we may be able to weaken the bauk enough to kill it."

Nicole was puzzled. "Why go through all that? Can't you just do your Angel thing?"

Cas frowned. "Not if it's a mythological creature. There are certain beasts that are impervious to an Angel's powers. Minotaurs, hydras..."

"OK, Cas, let's leave the mythology lesson for another time," Dean said briskly.

"But put a pin in that, 'cause it sounds really interesting," Sam added.

His older brother rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right. And we're also gonna have to talk about you, knowing so much about opera."

"I don't - " Sam began, but Dean cut him off. He was taking charge, now. "OK, here's the plan," Dean said. "Sammy, you go find that Wilma What's-Her-Face. Take Nicole with you. Cas'll go see the conductor, and me and Mrs. Buzzkill here will go find the thing." He nudged Gail. "You got your blade?"

"No, but I can go and get it. It's in our room," Gail responded. "Be right back."

Dean looked at Cas as Gail popped herself out of the corridor. "You're not gonna object?"

Cas shook his head. "No, Dean. It makes perfect sense for us to be deployed that way. But make sure you don't hesitate to call me, if you need any help at all. Okay?" He looked at Sam. "You too, Sam. If you need help, just pray loudly. I'll hear you."

Gail reappeared, and Cas moved to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Be careful, my love," he said to her. "I'll see you shortly." Then he vanished, leaving an amazed Gail behind. Cas was usually so overprotective. But Sam and Dean were the experts in this type of situation, and Gail was a capable warrior now. Besides, if she and Dean ran into any real trouble, she could just zap them elsewhere. It made more sense to have her paired with Dean, rather than with Nicole. There was no way they could expose Nicole to that kind of danger.

Nicole realized that too, and she appreciated what Dean was doing. She didn't mind. She would feel safe with any one of this group. "OK, let's go see Madame Butterfly, then," she quipped, and Sam looked at Dean's girlfriend in surprise. Then, he laughed.

Dean was shaking his head. "OK, I'm getting a little worried about BOTH of you, now. Opera? Gimme a break. I'll bet you that even Cas doesn't listen to opera."

Gail smirked. "No, of course he doesn't. We listen to what I want to listen to."

"What a shock," Dean said sarcastically. "OK, Griselda. Let's go. Lock and load."

"Do YOU have a weapon?" Gail asked him.

"What do you think?" Dean said, giving her a look.

Gail nodded. Yes, of course he did.

"Be safe, you two," Nicole said, and she and Sam headed off down the corridor.

"What's the plan?" Gail asked Dean. "Where do you think this thing could be hiding?"

He thought for a moment. "It's big, and it likes the dark. I'm thinking...cargo car."

She gave him a half-shrug. It was as good an idea as any. "Lead on, Egbert," she said good-naturedly.

"We should prank Dean by downloading an opera song onto his phone," Sam said to Nicole, grinning.

"Better still, we should find out if this lady's got a CD, and get it for him, for Christmas," Nicole responded. "Hey, maybe we'll get her to sign it for him: 'To one of my biggest fans'. She's probably one of those big, huge ladies. He'll love that," she added wickedly.

"I wonder if they still wear those big hats with the horns, and the metal bras," Sam speculated.

"Hey, you know what they say: 'It ain't over till the fat lady sings'," Nicole came back with. She was enjoying their exchange.

Sam looked at her. "Just remember, if anybody asks, YOU said that, not me. It's not exactly very politically correct."

"Wait a minute," Nicole said, as something suddenly occurred to her. "How do we know where to find this woman?"

"It might be that I overheard the server in the bar mention her room number, earlier," Sam said sheepishly. "She said they were sending her a complimentary bottle of champagne."

Dean's girlfriend raised an eyebrow. "Gee, Sam, stalk much?" she teased him.

He shrugged. "It's not like that, Nicole. I just happened to overhear it, that's all. Let's face it; I didn't really have a lot to occupy myself. You and Dean and Cas and Gail were gone, and - "

"It's OK, Sam," she said, giving him a gentle nudge. "I'm just teasing you. I'm sorry if you're feeling a little...well, you know. It's just that Dean and I have never been on a trip like this together. And Cas and Gail are - "

" - Cas and Gail," Sam sighed, finishing the thought. "Yeah, I know. Don't mind me. I'm glad you guys are enjoying yourselves. I'd just kind of like to be enjoying myself too, if you know what I mean."

Nicole nodded. She did. "Well, cheer up. Maybe Wilma likes tall, handsome men."

"Yeah. Thanks," Sam said dryly, but the two of them smiled at each other to acknowledge the fact that their relationship was growing closer. Nicole hoped that pretty soon, she would be able to have the kind of easy, bantering exchanges with Dean's family and friends that they all had with each other. This trip was certainly helping in that regard. Monster on the train notwithstanding, she was very glad she'd decided to come.

"What IS it with you guys?" Gail said to Dean as they moved from car to car. "Everywhere we go lately, there's a monster or a ghost involved."

Dean shrugged, smirking. "Hey, what can I say? I've been feeling a little lazy these days, and Sammy's not getting any younger. Maybe we made a deal to have the monsters just come to us," he quipped.

She laughed softly. "Oh, and by the way...'bauk-blocked'? Good one," Gail said, nudging him. "You'll have to remember to tell that to Frank, when you see him next."

"Why don't YOU?" Dean asked her.

Gail gave him a look. "Don't you think it would make more sense coming from you?"

He continued to smirk. "If I know you and Cas, and I do, the exact same thing applies to the two of you. Am I right?"

She laughed again. She couldn't help it. "Yeah, but Frank's my brother," she pointed out. "Think about how grossed out you would feel to hear something like that from your sister."

"I don't have to hear about it. I have the live show in the bunker, all the time," Dean said dryly.

Gail smacked him on the arm. "Stop it! We're not that bad!"

"Shut up, Gail," he said abruptly, but before she had the chance to retort, he put his finger to his lips and gestured down the corridor.

The two of them crept forward in silence until they reached the cargo area. When they had first gotten on the train, Sam had grabbed a brochure which had included a map of the train cars, and they had joked about raiding the cargo hold to see if they could pilfer a case of vodka for Frank. That was how Dean had known where to go now.

As they approached, Gail could hear sounds coming from within the cargo car. Boy, did Dean ever have good hearing. Even with her celestial ears, she hadn't even heard it. And he'd heard it further on down the corridor, through the ambient noise of the train. It was a thumping, bumping sort of sound, like someone was shifting something around in there. Or someTHING.

Dean made another silent gesture, and Gail understood. She got her blade out of her pocket and sprang it open, and suddenly, there was a gun in Dean's hand. She gaped at him. Where had he been hiding - ? Never mind. She really didn't want to know.

Gail nodded at him, and then she grabbed him by the arm, popping the both of them into the cargo car. It was pitch dark in there, so Gail spoke the Enochian phrase softly, and the tip of her blade lit up.

By the dim illumination it gave, they could make out the silhouette of a large, lumbering form at the end of the cargo hold. Gail shone the light upwards to reveal the creature's ursine features, and bright red eyes. It gave a low growl, revealing sharp, bloody teeth.

"Help me!" A child's voice, coming from the corner of the compartment, behind some boxes.

"Awww, crap!" Dean exclaimed, aiming the gun at the bauk. "Hey! Yogi!" he yelled, trying to lure the thing away from its prey. But there was another cry from the corner, a high-pitched wailing sound this time: "Help meee! Please!"

The bauk moved toward the sound, presumably to silence its victim. "Oh, hell, no!" Dean shouted. He shot at the creature. One, two, three times. It roared loudly and did another about-face, knocking over some boxes marked "FRAGILE". But Gail and Dean didn't get the chance to appreciate the irony, because the bauk was heading straight for them now.

Gail seized Dean's arm. "Grab a handful of its fur, or whatever you can. I've got an idea." Then she vanished.

Dean looked incredulously at the spot where she had just been. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed. He hoped she knew what she was doing, or he was gonna be toast.

"Can I help you?"

"Could we please see Wilma Fedchankov?" Sam asked the woman who answered the door.

"We're sorry to bother you so late, but it's a bit of an emergency," Nicole added.

"An opera emergency?" the woman quipped, and Sam laughed. "You might say that, yeah," he told her.

Wilma smiled back. "My manager tells me I shouldn't open the door to strangers. Now, I think I see why."

"YOU'RE Wilma?" Nicole blurted out.

The opera singer laughed. "Don't tell me, let me guess: you were expecting a three-hundred-pound battleaxe of a woman, wearing a metal bra and a hat with horns."

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said, grinning. He had to admit that Wilma's appearance was a pleasant surprise. She looked to be in her mid-to-late 30s, with long, dark hair and hazel eyes, and she was a little curvy, but far from overweight.

"I get that a lot," Wilma said good-naturedly. "We opera singers get a bit of a bad reputation, but I went to the Academy with some really beautiful girls, and some very hinky guys."

"Hinky?" Nicole repeated, puzzled.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think I mean to say 'hunky'," Wilma said sheepishly. "I still struggle with English slang, sometimes. But I'm trying to learn, because my Agent said I might be able to cross over to America."

"We're here to ask you a favour," Sam told her, "but it's going to sound really weird." He hesitated a moment, and then he decided to use the direct approach: "Have you ever heard of a bauk?"

The conductor had been obstinate, at first. FBI or no FBI, the Trans-Siberian Express did not just suddenly stop in its tracks in the dead of night. Why on earth would they ask him to do such a thing?

Cas was tongue-tied. He was not as used to employing deception as the Winchesters were. He had been hoping that invoking the venerated FBI name would be enough, but apparently, that only went so far. So then, he tried coercion.

"You have a killer on your train, Mr. Plushenko," Cas told the man, tight-lipped, emphasizing the word Mister, rather than Conductor. "If he is not dealt with, he will continue killing. Do you want that on your conscience? If you do not stop this train, we will go to the press and report that you had the opportunity to help us, and you refused. That won't look too good for you or your reputation, nor for your employer's."

The conductor's eyes narrowed. He didn't appreciate the threat. However, he supposed he'd better capitulate. His employer definitely wouldn't take kindly to being portrayed so poorly in the media. But he had one more token protest to make: "Even if I do agree to do this, how will stopping the train capture a murderer?"

Cas was silent. He had no clue what to say, now. How did Sam and Dean DO it? Unable to come up with anything plausible, he took the Angel way out: he reached out and touched Plushenko on the forehead, modifying the man's memory to make him believe that he had already agreed to do it.

That was when Gail showed up at the door of the conductor's suite. "I need you to come with me, now!" she insisted, grabbing Cas by the hand.

"I will stop the train as we have agreed, and then meet all of you outside, by the tracks," the conductor said. Then he hurried out of the room. Gail winked herself and Cas away, without another word.

"You've got to be kidding me," Wilma said to Sam and Nicole. "There's a bauk on the train?"

"You know what that is?" Nicole asked the opera singer, surprised.

"I thought I did," Wilma replied in a dazed voice. "My dedushka - I mean, my grandfather - used to tell me stories about creatures in the forest outside the village, just waiting to snatch little children who wander away by themselves. But we all believed that those were fairy tales, no different from Red Riding Hood, or Snow White."

"My brother and our friends are Hunters," Sam told her. "Some of those monsters are real, and we kill them."

Wilma was staring at him, amazed. Wow. She was a rising star in the classical music scene in Russia, but she'd never had such an interesting yet surreal conversation as this in all her life. She had absolutely no doubt that these two were telling the truth. Wilma moved in some pretty sophisticated circles now, but she came from a simple, rural environment. Her family still lived in that small village in Siberia. She had been heading home for a visit before kicking off a tour of concert halls in Russia, Romania, and the Ukraine. Growing up, her family and friends had all believed in varying kinds and levels of superstitions. Wilma considered herself a modern woman, but when she sat down to the dinner table, she always took a pinch of salt and threw it over her left shoulder, and when she gave dinner parties, she never sat thirteen people. Besides, Sam was tall and handsome, and Wilma had been in a bit of a dry spell.

"You said you were looking for my help," Wilma said. "How on earth could I help YOU?"

Sam smiled. He could think of a couple of ways, he thought to himself. She was attractive, friendly, inclined to believe what they were telling her, and she was going to be on the train for a few more days, the same as they were.

"Is it true you have a nine-octave range?" Sam asked Wilma, and she smiled proudly. "Yes, I do," she confirmed.

"Great," Nicole said brightly. "My boyfriend is searching for the bauk right now, and when he finds it, you can help us get rid of it." She glanced at Sam. There. Now Wilma knew that Sam and Nicole weren't a couple. She saw the way the two of them had been looking at each other.

Sam flashed Nicole a grin, and then he explained what they had in mind. Wilma looked at the two of them incredulously. She was going to help them kill a bauk with her voice? "Cool," she said, employing her American slang. "Just let me get my coat."

Cas and Gail appeared back in the cargo car. She had already told him over their frequency what she had in mind, so Cas was prepared.

As she rushed over to the corner of the car where the boxes were stacked, Cas moved to help Dean.

"It's about time!" Dean yelled. He had been alternating between wrestling with and dodging the bauk, trying to hold its attention and keep it away from the child in the corner, who was still wailing. "Little help here, Cas?"

Now, both men were struggling with the bauk. Cas had his blade out, and he was slashing at it. Gail threw a few more boxes aside and found the little boy. She was relieved to see that he didn't appear to be injured in any way, just scared. "Sorry, but I don't have time for finesse right now," she told the child. "I'm here to save you from that monster. You can trust me." She put her hand on his head and read him, finding out his room number. His parents had been sleeping, and young Nikolai had gotten out of his bed and slipped out of their room to see if he could find another child on the train to play with. His Papa became very angry when he was awakened suddenly, but Nikolai had been wide awake, and bored. So he had gone out looking for human companionship, and instead, he had been grabbed by a monster.

Once Gail found out where the young boy had come from, she picked him up in her arms and winked him over there, inside the room. Fortunately, his parents were still sleeping soundly. So she put little Nikolai in his cot bed at the foot of the larger one, tucked him in, modified his memory so that he would have no recollection of the bauk, and then induced him to sleep.

Phew. Then Gail popped back to the cargo car, making a beeline for the cargo boxes she had shoved aside. She took her blade out of her pants pocket and used it to cut the twine off the packages. Then she brought the twine over to Cas, who wound it around the bauk's ankles.

Dean grinned. Now, he got it. He gave the beast a hard shove, and it fell to the floor with a resounding thud. By this time, Gail had some more twine. She gave some to Dean and he looped it around the monster's torso.

Once the bauk was incapacitated, at least for the moment, Cas said, "I'm going to teleort it outside, as soon as Plushenko stops the train."

And, right on cue, the train slowed to a halt. Cas winked the beast out of the cargo hold, and Gail grabbed Dean by the arm, taking him outside, too. Cas had the bauk on the railroad tracks, right in front of the train. The bright lights of the engine were shining right on the creature, and it was writhing and bellowing.

Wilma, Sam and Nicole were also there, along with the conductor. "OK, this is officially the weirdest thing I've ever done," Wilma said, looking around at them with wide eyes. "If I wasn't so cold, I'd swear I was having a surrealistic dream."

"I'm not so sure you're not," Nicole said fervently. She felt exactly the same way.

"So, as long as I'm only dreaming anyway, here goes," Wilma said. She opened her mouth and trilled a high-pitched note. They all watched the bauk to see if it was reacting.

"Can you turn up the volume?" Sam said to the opera singer, his lips twitching.

She stopped singing for a moment. "Sure, Sam." Wilma unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off. "Would you mind holding this for a minute?" she asked Nicole, who took it from her. "Sam, could you come here?" Wilma said to the younger Winchester. When he moved closer to her, she took his hands. "Wrap your arms around me from behind and press on my diaphragm, right - here." Wilma showed him. "My vocal coach used to do that all the time, when she wanted a more powerful note." She smiled. The truth was, Wilma could have done that herself, if she'd needed to. But why should she, when she had a tall, strapping, good-looking man to do it for her?

"Hurry, please," Cas said. "I don't know how much longer we can keep it here." He and Dean were down on their knees in the snow, trying to hold the thrashing beast in place.

Sam pressed on Wilma's stomach as she sang a loud, piercing note. The bauk bellowed again, drowning her out. So Wilma put her hands on top of Sam's and pressed harder, and the note grew louder. Cracks started to appear in the bauk's face and torso.

"It's working! Keep singing!" Cas exclaimed.

Wilma was starting to lose her breath, but as all professional, classically-trained singers learn to do, she contracted her diaphragm now and reached back for a little extra. The note continued on for another minute, and then suddenly, the bauk disintegrated.

"Yahtzee," Dean said with relief. His muscles were sore from wrestling with the thing, and he was sweating from his exertions, even though it was cold and snowy outside. He hadn't been able to take the time to put on a coat.

Neither had Gail, and she was shivering now. Cas got to his feet and hurried over to her, shrugging off his blazer and putting it around her shoulders.

Wilma started to cough, and Nicole handed her coat back to her. Sam took it and held it out for Wilma to put her arms into.

Plushenko was standing by, an impassive expression on his face. The modification Cas had performed on him was still in place. "Can we proceed now, Agent Sweet?" he asked Cas, in perfect English.

Dean looked at his Angel friend, and Cas shrugged. "I just thought it would be easier if we could all communicate with him, going forward," Cas said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Let's go inside and get warmed up, 'Sweet'," Sam said with a grin.

They all trooped aboard the train, and the conductor moved on down the corridor without another word, presumably to re-start the train.

"'Agent Sweet'? Really?" Dean said to Cas, rolling his eyes.

"Initial, E?" Gail said mischeviously.

"Of course," Cas said, putting his arms around her. "Are you warm enough, my love?"

"I am now," Gail said contentedly.

"Well, I don't know about anybody else, but I think this calls for a drink," Dean remarked.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean pretty much thought that anything called for a drink. But in this case, a drink with this group might just be the opening Sam needed.

"The trouble is, the bar car is closed, and the liquor will be locked up," Wilma pointed out. "I don't mean to be a stick-in-the-muck."

"Mud," Sam corrected her with a grin.

That smile decided Wilma. "Why don't you come to my suite for a nightcap?" she asked the others.

"Suite?" Dean said, surprised.

"I'm kind of a celebrity," Wilma remarked, blushing a little.

Cas gave Gail a kiss on the cheek. "Why don't you go ahead, my love?" he said to his wife. "I'll be along in a minute." He sent her a message on their frequency, telling her where he planned to go, and what he was going to do there. She nodded, taking off his blazer and handing it to him.

As the five of them moved down to the area where Wilma's room was, Cas popped out. He appeared in Yuri's room, putting his hand gently on the young man's head. Cas had made the decision to modify Yuri's memory, feeling it would be more compassionate to erase the young man's memory of Raisa than for him to have to deal with the lasting remembrance of his girlfriend's brutal and senseless death.

Then Cas waved his hands, and all of Raisa's possessions were gone, including the framed photo Yuri was keeping by the bedside.

And then, for his final act of compassion, Cas winked over to the walk-in cooler of the kitchen, where the poor girl's body was being kept overnight. He picked Raisa up and teleported her outside, to a clearing beside the railroad tracks. Yuri had told Gail that Raisa had no family, which meant that she would have no loved ones to agonize over her disappearance. This was the kindest approach to use, in Cas's view. Tomorrow, when the train arrived in Ekaterinburg, no one who had been affected by the bauk's menace would have any recollection of it. Well, except for Wilma, of course. But Cas had the feeling that, if they asked the opera singer to keep the events of this evening confidential, she would. As it was, he was sure she was going to have lots of questions about their group, and the events that had occurred tonight. Cas had another feeling, too, one that told him that Sam would be very glad to answer the woman's inquiries.

Cas buried Raisa's body. Then he said a blessing over the unfortunate young girl's unmarked grave, and then he winked himself away.

Chapter 4 - Family Secrets

It was snowing lightly when they got off the train at Ekaterinburg. They would have a five-hour layover there, which would be enough time to visit the Church On The Blood and then find someplace to have lunch. Sam had suggested they try to make it someplace with a Wi-Fi connection, in case he had to do some further research.

Sam was in very good humour that morning, and even though he wasn't saying, the others were pretty sure they knew why. They had stayed for the length of exactly one drink the night before, and then the two couples had left discreetly. They had ended up telling Wilma the truth about themselves, mostly. She had had a pretty good idea of what they were all about, anyway. By then, it was evident that Wilma and Sam were interested in each other, so Cas had let the situation be, trusting that Wilma would keep the information to herself.

But they were leaving Wilma behind on this particular day trip. Regardless of what may or may not have happened between them the night before, Sam didn't think he should invite her along on this type of excursion. So, he had advised Wilma that their group had something private to do as a family, but if she wanted to meet for drinks and dinner later on, he would like to get together. Wilma had smiled, said she understood, and she would like that very much.

Once the group had walked far enough away from the train, Cas and Gail winked all of them over to the church. Nicole was open-mouthed as they approached the structure. Like most Russian churches she had seen on the Internet, it was a colourful building, with what were called "onion domes" crowning the structure.

"They're very opulent, aren't they?" Cas said softly, as they entered the vestibule. "So is everything, here."

"Wow, I'll say," Nicole remarked with amazement. Everywhere she looked, there was marble, and there were huge crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings above them. There were all kinds of intricate artworks, too. Sculptures, and paintings depicting Biblical events. Nicole's lips twitched as she glanced at Cas again. She wondered what he must think of some of those depictions. Actually, she wondered if he'd been there for some of them. That wouldn't surprise her, not one bit.

"Look; there's a sign that says the Romanov exhibit is upstairs," Sam pointed out.

When they entered the wing, Nicole stood still for a moment. The place looked like a tomb. Dean saw the look on her face, and he took her hand. This must be so weird for her.

"It's only a symbolic tomb, according to this," Gail said, reading from a plaque on the wall. The signs were all in English as well as the Cyrillic Russian, probably because the Romanov family was so famous. Or notorious, might be a more accurate term.

Nicole nodded sadly. That made sense, she supposed. According to everything they'd read, there WERE no actual graves. But they were standing at the site of the murders right now, she realized. She looked around the alcove where the marble slab was, which commemorated the deaths. There was a wreath placed next to it. All along the wall were plaques, mentioning each Royal family member by name, inscribed with their birth dates, and the date they had died. There were flowers distributed all around the symbolic crypt, but as Nicole peered closer, she noted that the flowers and the wreath were made of plastic. She supposed that also made sense under the circumstances, but still...

She looked up at her grandmother's plaque. Tatiana Romanov. She'd been only 21 years old when she had just barely escaped being massacred here, with the rest of her family. And how about Victoria, the woman who Nicole had thought was her grandmother for all of those years? There were no plaques for her, and no flowers, fake or otherwise. She'd been a mere servant. A non-person, in their eyes.

Nicole began to cry silently, and Dean put his arm around her. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why..." Her sentence trailed off.

"Hey, I get it," Dean told her. "We all do. They were your family."

"And they don't even have any real flowers," Nicole said in a tremulous voice. She wasn't sure why that one little detail was bothering her so much, but apparently, it was. Fake flowers, fake tomb, fake sympathy. The Russian government obviously didn't give a crap about what had happened here that day; they just wanted to appear as if they did. Just like all governments, everywhere.

Cas frowned. He understood that Nicole was upset about much more than just flowers. Unfortunately, there was nothing that any of them could do about the situation. It had been truly awful, what had happened to the Romanov family and their servants here that day. But there was nothing he could do to make it better, except to show their friend what little kindness he could.

He waved his hand and replaced the plastic flowers with real ones. He chose a simple arrangement of red and white roses.

"Those signify sorrow, and love," Cas told Nicole, and she sniffled back the tears, thanking him.

They spent a few more minutes there, looking around. But there was nothing to be discovered that they didn't already know. Nicole sighed, looking at her friends. Her very dear, dear friends.

"Let's go have some lunch, and a couple of really strong drinks, on me," Dean's girlfriend said to everyone. She favoured the Angels with a thin smile. "I realize that's a hollow gesture, when it comes to the two of you."

"Hey, not so fast," Gail said. "If you're buying, I'm imbibing." She made a face. "That was supposed to rhyme, but you get the idea."

"Thanks for your support, everybody," Nicole said, "and thanks for the beautiful flowers, Cas. That meant a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Nicole," he said, taking Gail's hand. He was glad that Dean's girlfriend wanted to leave this place. There was an extremely negative feel to it, a psychic contrail left behind by the evil acts that had happened here. Cas generally enjoyed churches, because of the peaceful, serene way he felt in them. But there was no peace here, only the lingering traces of evil, and the screams of murdered innocents.

They exited the building a couple of minutes later.

Vincent had assembled all of the ingredients for the Aging spell now, and he was double-checking Rowena's book, to make sure. Baby Brian was sleeping peacefully in his bassinet at the moment, and Becky was on her laptop, reading aloud to Vincent. The subject? The Beast of the Apocalypse, of course. Vincent wasn't exactly up on the religious aspects of the whole thing. What were the implications?

"The Second Beast is born unto the Earth so he can direct the people of the Earth to worship the First Beast," Becky read tonelessly.

Vincent grinned. "Well, I think 'Beast' might be a little strong, unless they're talking about my skills in bed," he said with evil glee. "Right, Becky?" She was silent, and the expression on her face was sullen. He shrugged. It didn't matter. He and his son were going to rule it all, and whoever didn't like it could either kneel, or die.

"The Book of Revelation says that the Beast shall join with the Angel of the Abyss and the False Prophet to make war with the Lamb," Becky continued.

"See, this is one reason I always hated the Bible," Vincent said conversationally, beginning to combine the ingredients in a large bowl. "Besides all the sanctimonious b.s., and all the 'Thou Shalt Nots', they talk in riddles, half the time. I'm supposed to team up with an Angel, and a Prophet? What's the Abyss, and why are we waging war with a sheep?"

He was half-joking. Vincent knew that many Angels were not exactly the lily-white paragons of virtue that nearly everyone on Earth thought they were. Just look at his daughter and son-in-law, as prime examples. There had existed many Angels throughout the centuries who had arguably been as rotten as Vincent. And that thing about the Lamb? It must be referring to the supposed "Lamb of God". Even Vincent knew that phrase. But what he really didn't know was who, or what, that phrase actually referred to. That was OK, though; he couldn't see how two Beasts and the Angel of the Abyss could ever be beaten by a Lamb. The Prophet, on the other hand...

"Does it say anything else about this 'Angel of the Abyss'?" the Voodoo Priest asked Becky.

"Just a name," Becky replied. "Abbadon."

Had Castiel or the Winchesters been in Becky's kitchen then, they would probably have wrestled the computer away from Becky at that moment. ABBADON? The Demon woman Dean had supposedly killed, years and years ago? Crowley's bitter enemy? THAT Abbadon? What the hell?

But neither Vincent nor Becky had ever heard of Abbadon, and Vincent shrugged now. He was losing interest in all of this Biblical junk. "We'll figure all that out later," he told her. "Come here, and help me measure some of this stuff."

If Becky had been encouraged to keep on reading, she could have given the Voodoo Priest a bit more information which, quite frankly, probably wouldn't have deterred him. But it might have tipped him off that his plans weren't exactly going to go unopposed. And, truthfully, had Becky been clear-headed, she might have been able to recall something about her own time as an Angel that would have been very helpful to Vincent in this situation. Whether she would have divulged it to him was another matter, of course. Had she really sunk this low? Was she really going to help Vincent get his Voodoo Prince? But then she realized something: she'd already given Vincent everything he'd needed to destroy them all, when she'd schemed behind Sam's back to deceive him. This was all Becky's fault. All of it.

She trudged over to the utensil drawer to get the measuring spoons.

Two "accidents" later, Al had to admit that there was something really bad going on at Nicole Baxter's house.

Jacques had been checking the fireplace in the living room area for creosote buildup when a fire had spontaneously erupted in there, all on its own. This time, there had been witnesses to the incident. When the more superstitious men had expressed trepidation, Al had instituted a buddy system. It would take longer to get the work done, but if that was what it would take to appease his men, the foreman had reasoned that the policy would be worth it, in the long run.

But the buddy system hadn't helped poor Jacques, who was in the hospital with serious and painful burns on half of his body. And it certainly hadn't helped two of Al's roof men, who'd had bone-breaking falls from the top of the house. That particular incident could still have been considered an accident, were it not for the fact that both men had sworn that a woman had suddenly materialized there on the roof. Her shocking appearance had caused one of the roofers to slip and fall, which Al supposed was technically an accident. However, as the other roofer had rushed over to see if he could try to grab his co-worker before he fell, the second guy had felt a hard shove from behind, and he had joined the first man in a broken heap on the ground.

Fortunately, there had been no deaths, but Al had finally had to shut the project down. Ms. Baxter was on a train in the heart of Russia now, she had advised by email, and the train was winding through mountains. Therefore, the owner of the place was unreachable at the moment. But, the boss felt he had no choice.

The men had packed up and gone now, and the house was quiet once more. In a way, Valentina was glad. It gave her a respite from the constant noise, and vulgarities. She moved through the rooms now, considering what she should do next.

"What are you doing, Valentina?" a voice said from behind her.

The witch turned slowly, regarding her sister, Victoria. Valentina had been caught off-guard. She wasn't strong enough to keep Victoria and Tatiana from manifesting here any more, but so far, Valentina had been able to prevent them from spoiling her revenge. Or her symbolic revenge, that was, in the form of injuring the workmen. But she was realizing now that any satisfaction she might have derived from their cries of pain was by proxy, only. It was Grigori that she wanted to hurt, just as he had hurt her. But she had no idea where her former lover was. Tatiana's granddaughter and her friends were on their journey to try to find Rasputin right now, but what were they going to be able to do to him, even if they did? Even an Angel could not negate immortality.

Maybe she was going about this all wrong, Valentina thought now. It was no use finding Grigori if there was no way to effect his demise. What she should be doing was looking for a way to reverse the spell.

Without a word to Victoria, because she knew that her sister would never understand, Valentina vanished from the house.

Becky watched, transfixed, as Vincent took the knife and cut his own palm, dripping blood into the bowl. Then he waved his knife hand over the cut, speaking a few words in a language she had never heard before, and the wound was healed.

Vincent grinned. "Immortality. Ain't it grand," he said smugly. The blood hit the liquid that was already in the bowl, and it made a loud, hissing noise.

Then Vincent looked at Becky, and her heart sank. "Come on, Little Mother," he said, still smiling. "We need both parents to weigh in, here. You know I'll get it, one way or the other."

She sighed. Yes, he would. So she extended her hand to him, and he repeated the procedure with her, healing her immediately afterwards. "See? I can be nice," Vincent said charmingly. Becky's blood hit the mixture, and the liquid started to bubble, like a kind of sauce that was starting to boil over on the stove.

"And...that should do it," Vincent announced cheerfully. "Get ready, Becky. Your days of dirty diapers and other disgusting things are at an end. Now, I want you to go upstairs, and get dressed." He sniffed the air. "Maybe take a shower. Fix yourself up. I'm not taking you to meet my family looking like a bag lady." Then he smiled again. "Slut it up, a little. Once I introduce you as the Prince's mother, you'll be worshipped, any old way you want. Screw Sam Winchester. Oh, yeah, that's right: you didn't. But that's OK. You're about to find out that the bad guys do win, once in a while."

Not knowing what else to do, Becky slunk upstairs. As she undressed for the shower, she wondered where Sam was, and what he was doing.

Sam was in Wilma's suite at the moment, pouring champagne for his new lady friend. When some of her fans had found out that she was on the train, they had been knocking on her door, asking for selfies and autographs. It was difficult for Wilma to refuse, but she had also been hoping to have some alone time with Sam. Finally, the opera singer had arrived at a compromise: if she threw one party for any and all of her fans who wanted to meet her, she told them she expected to be given her privacy for the remainder of the trip.

Sam was bemused as he watched the fans, mostly young people, move around Wilma's suite. She had set up a bar and trays of food, and said it was her treat. So after the initial interaction with the singer, the fans had shyly congregated at the opposite end of the room, speaking softly to each other, and casting glances at her.

"I can't believe how well-behaved your fans are," Nicole remarked with a grin. "You should see some of the shenanigans our guys' fans try to pull, sometimes."

Wilma gave her a half-shrug. "It might be the difference in ethnic cultures, but also, I'm an opera singer. The medium lends itself to a certain kind of dignity, and decorum. I'm not exactly The Beatles."

Gail laughed. "It's interesting to see young people so into classical music, though," she said. "No offense, but it doesn't generally appeal to the younger demographic, does it?"

Sam handed Wilma a glass of champagne, and she smiled her thanks. "Ordinarily, you might be right," the opera singer agreed. "But, my manager has come up with a plan to market me to the rock and roll crowd."

Dean bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from making a smartass remark. He actually liked Wilma, and he could tell that she and Sammy liked each other, too. A lot. But she had to be kidding with that.

"Oh? And what's the plan?" Nicole asked innocently.

"He's going to have me record some mashups, combining operatic arias with classic rock and roll songs," Wilma replied. "The first one I'm going to do is a mix of Die Fledermaus, and Stairway To Heaven."

Dean swallowed the mouthful of beer he'd just ingested, sputtering. His eyes bugged out. "You're gonna do an opera version of Stairway To Heaven?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Dean," Wilma replied calmly. "We think that Led Zeppelin songs lend themselves very well to being mixed with good music."

"Good - ?" Now Dean was doing the slow burn. His hand tightened around his beer bottle, so tight that his knuckles went white. He glanced at Sam. "Excuse me," Dean said angrily, and then he walked away.

Wilma, Sam, Nicole and Gail watched Dean retreat for a few beats, and then they cracked up laughing. Cas arrived a moment later, handing Gail a glass of wine. "Did I miss it?" he asked them.

"Yes, you did," Wilma said, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes. "Sorry, Cas."

"You should have seen his face," Sam added, grinning.

"I especially liked it when you said 'good music'. That was a nice touch," Nicole said, giving Wilma a gentle nudge. Then she laughed again. "I guess I'd better go find him and tell him we were only joking, before he has a meltdown."

As Nicole moved away, Gail lifted her wine glass in salute to the opera singer. "Besides, if you're doing Die Fledermaus, wouldn't a Meat Loaf cover of Bat Out Of Hell be more appropriate?" she quipped.

Wilma laughed merrily. "Very good!" she said, nodding in approval of Gail's joke. "Has anyone ever told you that you're funny?"

Gail thought for a moment. "You know what? No! What's up with that, anyway?" she said, poking Sam.

"I think I'd better step in, here, and rescue Sam from my wife," Cas said with a smile. "She's fearsome, as well as funny. Thank you for your hospitality, Wilma. Good night."

He took Gail's hand and led her out of Wilma's suite. "What's the rush?" she asked her husband.

"No rush," Cas said. "I just wanted to be alone with you. And, for the record, I think you're very funny."

"That's because we're married," Gail teased him. "You're required by law to say that."

"Our marriage vows don't require me to say that. It's my love for you that does," Cas said smoothly.

Damn! Gail eyed him, smiling. She loved it when Cas was like this. "Does your love for me require us to walk to our compartment?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow. "Because this is taking way too long, and we have way too many clothes on, right now."

He stopped walking, and popped the both of them inside their room immediately. "Now that our first problem is solved, what would you like to do about the second one?" Cas said softly. He led her over to the bed and sat her down on the edge. Then he knelt in front of her.

"I think you can make that decision," Gail said, caressing his cheek with her hand. He kissed the palm of that hand, and then, he decided.

Vincent dipped a baby bottle into the bowl, filling it with the potion he'd created. "Here," he said to Becky, extending it to her. "You can do the honours."

She just stood there for a moment. This was all so...real, now. It was really going to happen. For a split second, she was tempted to refuse. But she knew that it wouldn't do any good. Vincent would just proceed without her. Maybe he would even kill her. Maybe she should let him.

Becky took the bottle from him and screwed the top on. She looked at Brian. He was awake now, sitting calmly in his bassinet, and his eyes were dark and wide. It was as if he knew exactly what was going on, here. And, who knew? Maybe he did. He was the Beast, wasn't he? Becky's son was the Beast of the Apocalypse. How had her life sunk so far, so fast? But she had boarded this metaphorical train voluntarily, hadn't she? Willingly. Eagerly, even. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to stalk and trap Sam Winchester. Or words to that effect.

She moved to the bassinet, with the bottle in her hand.

After she'd told him that they'd just been having fun with him, Dean and Nicole had stayed in their room. He claimed he'd known all along, and she'd pretended to humour him. But then she'd gotten a fit of the giggles. That went on for a few minutes, until she was able to collect herself enough to say that, despite the reason they were all here in the first place, she'd generally been having a great time. Then Dean had grabbed her around the waist and told her that her time was about to get a lot greater. And then their clothes had come off, and Nicole had to admit that he had been absolutely right.

Brian extended his chubby little arms and kicked his legs, and Becky picked him up. She put the bottle in his mouth and he began to suck on it eagerly, as Vincent grinned.

Sam was helping Wilma to clean up after the party, and as Brian drained the contents of the bottle, the younger Winchester looked up, startled. He'd heard a weird sound at the side of the salon compartment, where the windows were. He put down the plates he'd been gathering up and walked over there, pulling the drapes open.

There was a large black bat, stuck to the glass pane. Its wings were spread out, as if it had flown directly at the window, at full speed. The glass on the outside appeared to be cracked. Wow. That must have been some impact, Sam thought. Fortunately, there was an inside glass pane, as well.

"What are you looking at?" Wilma asked him.

Sam drew the drapes closed again. "Nothing," he said calmly. "Just the snow. I'm wondering how much snow there'll be, when we get to wherever we're going."

She smiled. "Probably quite a bit, depending on where you're going."

He started clearing dishes again. "I have no idea where we're going," Sam said noncommittally. "Some village, somewhere. I'm an American; there's no way I'm gonna be able to pronounce it." That was evasion at its finest, worthy of Cas himself, but it was true enough. They could hardly tell Wilma that they were on a search for Rasputin, so Sam had told her that they were going to visit Nicole's cousin, in Siberia.

Wilma smiled up at him. "Put those dishes down. Leave them for Housekeeping, in the morning. I have a different idea in mind."

Sam had no idea that at the same moment that he and Wilma were kissing in her bedroom, the baby boy he still thought of as his son was beginning to grow. And as Dean and Nicole threw the quilt off the bed in an effort to cool off from their sweaty lovemaking session, Brian was wriggling out of Becky's arms.

Bobby was working on some files at his desk in the High Office. Laurel had brought him a stack of files a while back, and even though he was bored as hell, God had promised her that he would keep at it until that day's stack was done.

He reached for the next file, and when he picked it up, he felt a sharp pain in-between his thumb and fingers. "Owww! Son of a bitch!" he cursed. "Damn paper cut!" Those were the worst. He put his hand in his mouth, trying to stave off the bleeding.

Laurel rushed into the Office. "What's the matter, Bobby?"

"Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to scare you," Bobby said, taking his hand quickly away from his mouth. He didn't want her to see God sitting there, basically sucking his thumb.

Suddenly, there was a loud, booming sound, making both of the Angels jump. "What the...what was THAT?" Bobby said, perplexed. In all his years here, he had never heard a sound like that before.

Gabriel appeared, startling Bobby and Laurel once more. "It's almost here," the Archangel said grimly. "The Beast is growing, right now. Seven, eight, nine...Good. He stopped at nine. That means we still have a little time."

"What the hell are you babbling about?" Bobby said irritably. He'd just received two heart-stopping jolts, and now here was Gabe, talking nonsense.

"The hour approacheth," Gabriel replied. Which was no help at all. "I need to find Josiah, and I need to find him now."

Then the Archangel vanished, leaving a completely confused Bobby to wonder what had just happened here.

Brian stood before his parents, swaying slightly. Which was understandable, really. Mere seconds ago, he had been an infant. Now he was nine years old, standing on his own two feet. Literally. It was going to take a bit of getting used to, being in this new body of his.

He was completely naked, of course, but Brian's father had been prepared. Vincent had gone to a store on his last trip to get ingredients for the spell, and he'd brought a set of clothes for the boy to wear. Nothing special; just pants and a tee shirt. Runners. Things ordinary kids wore. They would do for now. Brian could decide for himself how he wanted to dress. He was a young man, now.

But..."Brian"? Nope. No way. That name might have been fine for a slobbering baby, but not for a Voodoo Prince. Especially not for one as handsome as Vincent's son. He had inherited his father's dark colouring, and both of his parents' good looks.

"Damien," Vincent said suddenly. "From now on, your name is Damien." There. That was much better.

"Yeah. I like that," the boy said, nodding. "Come here, Dad. I want to do something for you."

Vincent looked at him warily. There was a gleam in Damien's eyes, a look that his father couldn't really identify. For a second, Vincent felt trepidation. Had this been a mistake?

But the father approached the son anyway, bending down to look at the boy. "And what is that?" the man inquired.

"This," Damien said softly. He reached out, touching Vincent's face. An instant later, Becky gasped. The disfiguring black mark that had been on Vincent's face was gone.

Damien looked at Becky next. "Thanks for taking care of me all those months, even though I know you hated it," he said coolly. "I can take it from here." He waved his hand, and the Angel blade that Becky had stolen from the bunker appeared in it. She shrank back from her son.

Damien laughed, and when he did, he got even more handsome. Vincent's chest puffed out with pride. This kid was going to have everyone falling all over themselves to serve him.

"I'm not going to hurt my own mother," Damien said to Becky. "Why would I want to do that, when there are so many other people who are a lot more worthy to screw around with?" He regarded the Angel blade with narrowed eyes. "I hear Siberia is really cold this time of year. I think the Angels deserve a warm welcome, don't you, Dad?" Damien winked at Vincent, and his father grinned.

As Sam and Wilma and Dean and Nicole slept peacefully, Cas and Gail were catching their breath. They had been very happily snuggled up underneath the blankets, and because it was so cold, Cas had been covering his wife like another blanket, in an effort to keep her warm. Then he had started to caress her, sharing his body heat, and then the friction between them had started to feel less like survival, and more like sex. Which suited both of them just fine, of course.

There was a loud, thudding noise outside the window of their compartment, and the sky was bathed in orange. Then there was another boom, louder than the first, and the bed began to shake.

Cas swore softly in Enochian. What on earth was going on out there? Had a couple of meteors landed near the train? He scrambled out of bed.

They had left the drapes at the window open. Gail knew how much Cas liked looking at the stars, and there was no chance of anyone looking in. Not with the train hurtling down the tracks at however-many kilometres an hour. Cas stood there, astonished. Fireballs were dropping from the sky. A few were far away, but now, another one landed just a few feet beside the tracks, producting a loud boom as it melted the snow instantly.

"What is it, Cas," Gail said, clutching at the blankets. "What's going on?"

He watched for another moment, but the attack was blessedly over as soon as it had begun. "We're running out of time," he told her. Then Cas came back to bed and got in, holding Gail until she stopped trembling.

"The hour approacheth," Castiel said to Gail, unwittingly echoing Gabriel's exact verbiage of a few minutes ago. "The First Beast and the Second have joined forces, and now they will be looking for the Angel of the Abyss, and the False Prophet. Gabriel is searching for Josiah, who has his blade."

"What should we do, Cas?" Gail said, her heart pounding away in her chest. "What do you need me to do?"

"We continue on," he told her. "What we are doing is vitally important, too. If I can get Anthony, aka Rasputin, to divulge his secret, this all may become a moot point."

Gail sighed. She guessed he was right, but this whole thing felt weird to her. Cas proceeded to tell her that Vincent had aged Brian, who was now known as Damien, to the age of nine. They had less than a year, now. If the child survived to the age of ten, he too would become immortal. But if they could find the key, they might be able to derail Vincent's plans and vanquish both him and Damien, in one fell swoop.

It all sounded so good, she thought. Yeah. Too good to be true. But still, they had to try. Maybe one of these days, things would work out the way they were supposed to. It could happen. Even a broken clock was right twice a day, wasn't it?

But Gail had a lot of questions for her husband, in the meantime. Who were this "Angel of the Abyss" and "False Prophet" that he was talking about? Why was she just hearing about this now? And what were they going to tell Sam?

Cas could see that she was starting to get angry, and he supposed he really couldn't blame her. After all the years they had been together, she deserved better from him. But the trouble was, on this score, he was as much in the dark as she was.

"It was foretold that the triad consisting of the two Beasts and the False Prophet would enjoin with the Angel of the Abyss to do battle with the forces of the Righteous," Cas said in a formal tone. Then, he sighed. "I apologize, my love. I didn't share this information with you before, because I have no information to share. I don't know the identity of the False Prophet, nor of the Angel of the Abyss. Those things are shielded from me. We can only do what we can do, from our end. If Gabriel finds Josiah, the Chosen One, the young man should be able to kill the Second Beast with Gabriel's blade. But, I want them both: the First, and the Second. That's why I think it's imperative that we continue on our journey."

"And what about Sam, and Dean?" Gail persisted.

"If we are successful in our quest, we can discuss it then," Cas said uncomfortably.

"You realize what you're doing now, right?" she said with exasperation. "You're just putting off the inevitable."

"I know," Cas said softly. "I realize that it'll be my responsibility to tell them. But, they're like my own brothers, Gail. Sam is my brother. How am I supposed to tell him that the child he thinks is his son has to die?"

VIGNETTE - TOTAL RECALL

The next morning, the Angel couple met with Sam, Dean and Nicole in the dining car. As the humans were having coffee and breakfast, Cas and Gail were gazing at Sam, then exchanging glances with each other.

Finally, the younger Winchester paused in the act of bringing his fork to his mouth. "What?"

Gail thought fast. "We were just wondering about you and Wilma," she said glibly. "How's that going?" Aw, geez. Great. She was becoming her husband now, with the evasive Angel crap. Terrific.

Sam smiled. "We had a good night. But, considering what we need to talk about this morning, I figured we should do it in private. I was pretty evasive with her, but she told me it was OK, she needed to work on some song arrangements for her new concert tour, anyway."

Gail's heart sank a little. Sam would be unaware of the extreme irony of his using the word "evasive" at this particular moment. But she couldn't dispute the common sense involved. They had to brainstorm now, to see if they could come up with some ideas on how to locate Anthony.

"Actually, I lucked out this morning," Sam went on. "I was able to get on Google for a few minutes. I guess the gap between the mountains was wide enough. So I took a screenshot of Rasputin, and there was an insert map with some of the villages he used to frequent, marked with little x's. I figured I'd show it to you, Cas. See if anything stands out."

Sam took his cell phone out of his shirt pocket, handing it to his Angel friend. Cas turned the phone on, and the display came on immediately. He touched the screen to make the image bigger, and saw the photograph of the man that the rest of the world knew as Grigori Rasputin.

Cas moved his finger, about to scroll down to the map, but Gail put her hand on his arm to stop him. She had been looking curiously over his shoulder at the phone, and the image of the man she saw she saw made her gasp. "'Mop 'N' Glow'," she murmured.

"What?" Dean asked her, They were all looking at her now.

"I know that guy!" she exclaimed, pointing at the phone.

Cas looked at his wife, shocked. "You know Anthony?" he said, in a louder voice than he had intended. Others looked in their direction. "How on earth would you know him?" he asked in a quieter tone.

Gail was wide-eyed. "When we were kids, Frank was goofing around one day, teasing Liz and me. Like he always did." Her throat closed up for a second. It still hurt a ton to think of Liz. Gail cleared her throat, and Nicole poured a glass of water and slid it across the table. Gail gave her a thin smile. She took a couple of sips, then continued on with her story:

"Anyway, none of us were paying attention, so we got on the wrong bus. The one we usually took home from school came to that stop at the same time every day, so we just assumed it was the right one. It started going downtown, and we were confused. But Frank said it wasn't the end of the world. He said it would be an adventure. We'd go downtown and get a slice of pizza, then wait for the next bus coming back the other way. Maybe he'd even take us to the bookstore, first. We were all for that, so we said sure. But we got off the bus in kind of a seamy area. I think Frank was lost, but he didn't want to admit it."

"That sounds like your brother," Dean remarked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That sounds like every guy I've ever met," Nicole quipped.

"So there we were, walking around, and we noticed this man walking behind us. He had grey, bushy hair, and a long beard. That was him! I'm sure it was!" Gail exclaimed again, pointing to the picture on the phone. "I'll never forget, because it was so creepy. The guy was just staring at us, following us around. He was pointing his finger at us, saying we were going to...how did he put it? Frank might remember better than me, but it was something like 'You're going to bring about the destruction of the world'."

Cas's hand tightened around the phone. What?! What was the meaning of THIS, now? Had that really been Anthony? Why would he have targeted them, all those years ago?

"He was scaring us, so we went into a store. Frank said if we stayed in there for a few minutes, the man would probably move on. He said the guy was probably just one of those crazy street people. So we browsed around in the store for a few minutes, but when we came back out, he was standing around the corner, like he'd been waiting for us. He said - " Gail broke off the sentence, as the full memory of the incident came flooding back to her now.

"What did he say?" Cas insisted. He was extremely alarmed now.

Gail gaped at him. "He pointed his finger at ME, and said that I couldn't ever get married, because if I did, my husband and I would cause millions to die." She was dazed at the memory. "I'd completely forgotten about that! It was years and years ago. Anyway, Frank said we should just ignore him, but Liz and I were starting to get really scared. So Frank was doing what he does best, trying to joke us out of it. He called the man a demented Santa Claus. So Liz and I started giggling, calling him 'Mop 'N' Glow', because his wild hair looked like a mop to us. But he wasn't finished, yet. He pointed at me again, and said, 'Burn them. Burn them all, or you'll be sorry.'"

They all looked at each other, frowning. "Uhhh...burn WHAT?" Dean said. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. What the hell had an Angel been doing, stalking little kids and saying junk like that to them? Maybe, before Cas killed Anthony, they should rough the guy up, a little. Or a lot.

"I don't know," Gail said in a small voice. Her eyes were as wide as saucers now. The others could picture her and Liz as little girls, trying to be brave as some demented-looking guy followed them around, saying such scary things. "Then, Frank freaked out. He wheeled on the man, saying that was the last straw," Gail continued. "Frank said he had one of his dad's special knives in his pocket for protection, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it, if the man didn't leave us alone. He looked scared when Frank said that, and then he turned around and walked away."

"Frank had an Angel blade?" Cas said sharply. He looked stricken, both by the story and by its possible implications.

Gail let out a breath. "No. Of course he didn't. He didn't have a weapon on him at all. He just said he did, to try an intimidate the guy. Obviously, it worked. Liz and I had no idea then, but I found out later that Jim had just started training Frank how to hunt, right around that time. But it doesn't make any sense, anyway. Frank couldn't possibly have known that Anthony was an Angel. We never met an Angel before we met you." She put her hand on Cas's arm. "And I'd never seen an Angel blade before I saw yours. All we had at home were Demon knives."

"Didn't you say that Frank just made all that up, though?" Sam pointed out. "When Anthony heard 'special knife', he probably just assumed it was an Angel blade."

Cas was frowning deeply now. "Of far greater concern to me is what he said to you," he said angrily. "We will have a few things to discuss, when we find him." He looked at the phone again, scrolling down to the map, which was the other screenshot Sam had taken. "There are a number of possible locations where he could be." He squinted at the small screen. "I think we need a bigger map, and further access to the Internet. I'm going to ask Conductor Plushenko where we can obtain both of those things." Cas handed Sam's phone back to him. "Gail and I will let you know what we discover."

Cas took Gail's hand and practically yanked her out of the booth. He led her out of the dining car and, as soon as they were out of the other passengers' sight, winked her to their compartment.

"Gee, Cas, if you wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask," Gail quipped, but she knew he had something entirely different on his mind.

"I need you to let me look into your mind," her husband said bluntly. "I have to witness the event you just described."

She gave him a half-shrug. "Sure, if you think it'll help, of course you should see it," Gail said agreeably. "Maybe there's something I've forgotten. It was such a long time ago."

She sat down on the bed and Cas sat beside her, putting his hand gently on her forehead. But after a couple of minutes, he removed it, looking into his wife's eyes. "What I saw is exactly what you told us," Cas said softly.

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd think I was imagining it," she remarked. "Actually, part of me wondered if I WAS imagining it."

"I wish you were, because the fact is much more disturbing," Cas said in a grim tone. "Why would Anthony appear to you like that? How could he possibly have known who you were, or who you and I would become? He was a lower-ranked Angel, much lower than myself. And by that time, he would have been here on Earth for many years, already. None of this makes any sense. It sounds as if he was trying to warn you away from marrying me, in the future." For the first time since the night before, a small smile played on Cas's lips. "I'm very glad you didn't take the warning."

"Well, I don't care about any warnings," Gail said emphatically. "No mop-headed Angel Rasputin wanna-be is going to tell me who I shouldn't be married to. And his so-called warning skills leave a lot to be desired. If you're going to tell somebody that they should burn something, don't you think it would be a good idea to specify exactly WHAT they're supposed to burn?"

Cas nodded. Gail sounded very cavalier about the whole incident, but that was just her style. She and her brother frequently used humour to try to mitigate the stress involved in these types of situations. Cas could picture the three of them as children, being frightened by the sudden appearance of a strange man following them around, issuing dire warnings. Frank, barely out of boyhood himself, using bravado and humour to protect the girls in his charge. Gail and Liz, wide-eyed and confused.

Cas took his wife in his arms. "I'm sorry you had such a frightening experience, my darling," he said softly.

Gail let him hold her for a minute, enjoying the comfort he was giving her and the loving intention behind it. "Thanks, sweetie," she said. "Maybe I'll punch him a couple of times myself, when we see him."

Her husband pulled out of the embrace. "Let's go see the conductor," he said.

Chapter 5 - Devil In Disguise

Cas had obtained a map of the region called the Central Yahut Plain from Conductor Plushenko. He opened it now and spread it out on the table in his and Gail's room. Dean and Nicole were sitting in the bench seat beside Gail, and Cas and Sam were standing.

"I think we should concentrate on the Sakha Republic," Cas mused aloud, running his finger along the route the train was on. "We'll get off the train at the next station, and then..." His voice trailed off.

"What? And then...what?" Dean prompted him.

"I'll be right back," Cas said absently, and he vanished.

The humans looked at Gail, but she shrugged. "Don't look at me. I have no idea where he went," she told them.

Dean looked at his brother. "So, Sammy, you gonna start wearing tuxedos and going to opera places?"

"Maybe we should buy you a pair of those opera glasses for Christmas," Nicole said teasingly.

Gail's mind was working furiously now, "Well, they do call classical music 'longhair' music, don't they?" she chipped in, motioning to Sam's head.

Dean threw her a look. "Is that the best you've got?" he asked her.

She frowned. "Yeah. We're going to have to put in an emergency call to Frank, if this keeps up."

Sam grinned. "And here I thought there would be no advantage to not being able to get phone service on the train."

Cas popped back in after a couple more minutes, making Nicole jump. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I guess I should be used to that, by now."

"I'm sorry, Nicole," he said, "but I just realized that I might have a fairly good idea of where Anthony could be, after all." He tapped his finger on the map. "There's a village called Kebet, to the Northeast of our next stop. That's where I think we should go."

"Oh...Kay..."Sam said, with a puzzled look on his face. Where had this suddenly come from?

"Where did you go, sweetie?" Gail asked her husband.

"Just to Heaven for a moment, to check on something," he said abruptly. He snatched the map from the table and began to roll it up. "I have to return this to the conductor. I'll be right back."

Incredibly, Cas turned around and left their compartment. Gail slid out of her seat. "Excuse me, I have to go kick a certain Angel's ass," she said irritably. Then she exited, too.

She caught up to Cas a little further down the corridor. "What the hell was THAT all about?" Gail exclaimed.

Cas glanced at her. "I went to my office in Heaven, to look at some old files I keep there," he told her. "I realized that I might have the name of the village where Anthony was living, before I...thought that I killed him."

"Oh. Okay. Then why didn't you just tell us that?" Gail said, puzzled.

He stopped walking and faced her. "Because Bobby popped by, just as I was putting the file away," he said, tight-lipped. "He told me that Gabriel suddenly appeared in his office, saying that the Beast was growing, and he had to find Josiah immediately. Then he popped back out again, with no further explanation. Bobby wanted to know if I knew what Gabriel was talking about."

Gail's eyes widened. Holy crap. "What did you tell him?" she asked anxiously.

"I didn't know what to tell him, so I lied," Cas said in a subdued tone. "I said I had no idea."

Gail let out a breath. Great. Just great. Now they were lying to God. "Did he believe you?"

"I don't know," Cas said, sighing. "He looked dubious."

"OK, well, unless he shows up here, I guess we just push on," she said, shaking her head. "If he's mad, we'll just deal with it later." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know what? Sometimes it's really complicated, being married to you. Maybe 'Mop 'N' Glow' had the right idea, all along."

"Don't say that, even as a joke," Cas said fervently. "Until we find out what he meant by that, I won't be able to rest easily."

Gail touched his face. "I know, sweetie. Me too. But whatever it is, we'll face it together. Just like we always do."

"I love you," Cas told his wife, taking her hand and kissing it tenderly. "I never wanted you to have any reason to regret marrying me."

"I've never regretted marrying you, Cas, and I never will," she said firmly. "In fact, why don't you return that map, and I'll kick the humans out of our room? Then I can spend the remainder of the afternoon showing you how much I don't regret marrying you."

Cas smiled slowly. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Truthfully, once we leave the train, we may have to live a little bit rough for a day or two, until we get to Kebet. But, do me a favour? Don't tell Dean I said that. I don't want to hear him complain any sooner than I have to."

Gail laughed. "Agreed." She kissed Cas on the cheek, then headed back to their room.

Valentina had attempted to summon her former mentor, Madame Laveau, in their customary way. But Marie was not responding to her pleas. What was she to do now? Valentina knew that Madame Marie was out there, somewhere. The Creole witch had ingested the potion of immortality. Therefore, there was only one conclusion Valentina could reach: Madame Marie was deliberately ignoring her calls. Why? Was she upset that Valentina had allowed Grigori to fool her the way he did? But that was hardly fair, was it? Valentina had been a young, innocent girl when she'd fallen in love with Rasputin. She'd had no idea that a man who professed his love to a woman, such as Grigori had done with her, could be lying. Grigori was supposed to be a man of the cloth, a holy healer. But he was a fraud. A devil in disguise. He needed to pay for what he'd done to Valentina. For what he was probably doing to another young, unsuspecting girl, right now.

Well, if Marie Laveau wouldn't come, then Valentina could see no other option. She put together the ingredients for another summoning spell.

This one produced results. A minute or so later, Valentina heard the soft Scottish brogue: "Hello, dearie."

An hour before they were due to leave the train, Cas paused.

"What's the matter?" Gail asked him. She really wished he hadn't stopped what he was doing at that particular moment.

"I'm sorry, my darling," he said absently. Then he started to move again, but suddenly, it felt like he was only partly with her.

"You know, if you're tired, all you have to do is say so," Gail said, a little irritably this time.

"No! No. I'm sorry, my darling. I admit that my mind wandered for a moment, wondering what we were going to find when we get to Kebet," Cas told her. "But, believe me, there's nothing I would rather be doing than this."

"OK," she said, somewhat mollified. "So, I guess we should take our showers now, and pack."

"And we will, in a moment," he said, smiling. "Just as soon as I hear you tell me how much you love me. Very loudly." Then he resumed what he'd been doing to her before he'd distracted himself, and now that he was devoting his full attention to it, and to her, it was only a matter of seconds until she was crying out.

Shortly thereafter, the Angels started to pack their things.

"I need your help, Rowena," Valentina said to her other erstwhile mentor. "Please."

"Now, why on earth would you need MY help?" the redheaded witch said softly. "Not to be indelicate about it, but...you're a ghost, are you not?"

Valentina sighed. Rowena had always been the more blunt of the two elder witches. "All right, Rowena. I don't necessarily NEED your help. I'm ASKING for it, based on our past association."

"Our past association?" Rowena said tartly. "Oh, do you mean the one where you ran out on us, in the middle of the night? That one?"

"Is that what Madame told you?" Valentina replied, astonished.

"She said you had a lover, that you were going to elope with," Rowena sniffed disdainfully.

Valentina was temporarily at a loss for words. Technically, that had been true. At least, so she had thought, at the time. But then, Valentina remembered what Marie had said about Rowena having slept with the man that Marie herself had loved. She realized now that Marie would never have shared the secret of her immortality potion with Rowena. Therefore, Rowena could not help her with a counter-spell. Now what?

"Why did you summon me here, Valentina?" Rowena asked her now, eyes narrowing a bit. "I'm surprised you wouldn't have called on Marie, instead. She looked upon you like a daughter."

Now, Valentina was truly speechless. She'd had no idea. No wonder Madame Marie had given her a share of the potion. But if her mentor had really felt that way about Valentina, why was she not answering her calls?

Valentina had been about to confide in Rowena, but a sudden sense of trepidation made her stop. She felt uneasy about the way that the redheaded witch was looking at her. Finally, Valentina stammered, "I DID call on Madame Marie, but she did not answer me."

Rowena nodded slowly. "So, I was your second choice. Well, I have better things to do." She moved her hands as if to disappear, but Valentina said, "No! Wait!"

Rowena paused.

She'd just been bluffing, of course. She was intrigued. It had been well over a century since Valentina had left their tutelage. Well, the younger witch obviously hadn't learned enough magic to protect herself, because shortly after Valentina had gone to be with her beloved, the news had come from the village that her dead body had been found laying beside the riverbank. Marie had had a wee cry, but Rowena had shaken her head scornfully. Any witch worth her salt would have defended herself against an attack, by whatever means necessary. Valentina had been a diligent enough student, but in Rowena's opinion, she had been far too innocent and naive to be able to practice the craft properly. And, sure enough, Rowena had been proven right.

Marie Laveau also had a bit of a soft side, Rowena knew, but she had her reasons for that. But Rowena also knew that if the chips were down, the Creole witch would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary. As would Rowena herself. Ever since her brief demise in the Caribbean, though, she had taken stock of herself and her situation, and had successfully let a lot of the old grudges go. Bitterness was not good for one's digestion, or one's complexion, she'd realized with dry humour.

And then, as if someone had been trying to send her a message, something wonderful had happened. As soon as Rowena had decided to leave the so-called God Squad be, a tall, bold and beautiful brunette had come into her life.

They had struck up a conversation in a musty old bookstore. The red-haired witch had been there to find a book on rare herbs, and she had noticed Abbadon, perusing the books in the Occult section. The woman was running one long red-painted fingernail along the spines of the tomes, biting her lip.

Rowena smiled. "Don't waste your time. They're all bollocks, anyway."

Abbadon had looked at her curiously. "What's 'bollocks'?" she'd asked, and then Rowena had laughed.

"You must be an American," the Scottish witch remarked, moving closer to the woman. "It simply means that if you're looking for something real, you won't find it between those pages."

Abbadon paused for a moment, then said, "You sound like you know what you're talking about. I wonder if you could tell me where to look, then?"

"What do you seek?" Rowena countered with.

"I've been having these...visions, I guess you'd call them," the taller woman replied. "I was hoping to figure out what they mean. To tell you the truth, they're pretty disturbing. I thought I could - " she lowered her voice, glancing around " - learn some magic, to try to defend myself. The men I see in my visions aren't exactly...human." She smiled. "You probably think I'm nuts."

Rowena shook her head. "No, not at all. I live here, in the neighbourhood. Would you like to come over for some tea, and a wee chat?"

Abbadon appraised her for a moment. "Make that liquor, and you've got yourself a new friend," she said sassily.

Rowena laughed again. Hmm. Friend. She liked the sound of that. She didn't believe she'd ever had one of those before. She'd had acquaintances, enemies, associates, and lots and lots of lovers. Of all the men she'd ever been intimate with, probably Bobby had been the only one for whom she'd felt some love. But their relationship had been doomed from the start, and now Rowena found herself alone, and lonely.

So the two of them had gone back to Rowena's place and had a couple of drinks, and then they had had a couple more. Abbadon had loved listening to Rowena's soft brogue, and she had been able to tell within minutes of being there that the redhead was a woman of substance. It was likewise with Rowena; she had been able to intuit that there was a lot more to Abbadon than met the eye. She'd been attracted to Abbadon's spirit, and her boldness. Actually, by her third drink, Rowena had to admit that she was attracted to Abbadon, period. And once she'd said that out loud, her new friend had smiled and said she felt the same way. Then the two of them were kissing, and once they'd started to touch each other, Abbadon's eyes had turned their natural black colour, and Rowena had realized what it was that set her new friend apart. It didn't bother Rowena at all that Abbadon was a Demon. She would be a first-class hypocrite if she were to judge the woman for something like that. Besides, the darker Abbadon's eyes got, the more skilled she became. Rowena was more or less an expert when it came to pleasing and being pleased by a man, but this was an entirely new experience for her. And for her part, Abbadon could tell that the redheaded witch was a novice at this particular type of activity, and that fact had excited the Demon all the more. There wasn't a whole lot that she herself had yet to experience. Centuries of iniquity had left Abbadon callous and jaded, but now she felt envigorated. Renewed.

After they'd finished making love, the women had had a long, honest talk about who they really were, and what they wanted. Abbadon was beyond excited when Rowena told her that she was an ancient witch, who could teach her new friend any one of a number of spells that would curse others, while protecting herself. In return, Abbadon would be loyal to Rowena, keeping her company, both in bed and out. But, to the womens' mutual relief, it was established that both of them wanted to keep their options open, as far as sexual partners went. They felt love for each other and were already looking forward to their next time together, but neither was interested in monogamy. The relationship between the women seemed ideal.

Rowena looked at Valentina now. She supposed she could afford to take pity on the girl. Hadn't Rowena told herself that she was going to try to let go of the past? Besides, there hadn't been any bad blood between herself and Valentina. As for Rowena and Marie's relationship, it was complicated. And, really, it was nobody's business but their own.

"How can I help you, dearie?" Rowena sighed.

The five of them got off the train at Khabarovsk, the Northeast potion of the larger Siberian region. They would still have to travel some distance from there. Kebet was due north, in a remote, sparsely populated area.

As Sam and Wilma were saying their goodbyes on the platform, Dean was eyeing Cas. "So, what now?" he asked his Angel friend.

"I have arranged with Conductor Plushenko to have the appropriate transportation brought here," Cas said evasively. He looked at Gail and Nicole. "Please make sure you have your gloves, scarves and earmuffs on," he said to the women. Plushenko said that it's extremely cold where we're heading. I'm afraid there won't be much civilization, either. The people of Kebet live in simple wooden structures. Some even build igloos, in the winter."

"If there's snow, it shouldn't be too bad," Nicole remarked. "Usually, in Ottawa, it warms up when it snows."

But Cas was shaking his head. "Not here," he said. "Remember, there will be no taller buildings to stave off the wind."

Dean's girlfriend nodded. "Oh, I'm familiar with the wind chill factor, believe me."

Cas looked at her, expressionless. Despite Nicole's assurances to the contrary, he really didn't think that she was as mentally prepared as she claimed she was. Then he glanced at Gail, wondering if he would be able to keep her warm enough while getting them all there in the ground transportation that was due to arrive in a couple of minutes.

"I'm looking forward to it. I love snow," Gail said excitedly. "It'll be just like being in a Christmas card. And, look," she said, nudging Nicole. Gail twisted her earmuffs open, putting them on her head. "I've been practicing."

"Very impressive," Nicole said, smiling.

"And, I have a backup," Gail went on. She flipped the hood of her jacket onto her head. "Ta-da! Now if they spring off my head and try to go whizzing off somewhere, there won't be any injuries."

The women laughed as Sam came over to join their group. "So...is that it?" Dean asked his brother. Sam looked at him for a moment. "Yeah, that's it, Dean," he replied. "We exchanged information, and said we'd keep in touch. But, let's face it: we probably won't."

They were all silent, and then Dean said, "Sorry, Sammy."

His little brother shrugged. With those two simple words, Dean had been able to communicate so many things. Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder in acknowledgement.

"OK, Cas, where's that car? It's freakin' cold!" Dean complained.

Gail's lips twitched. "Dammit! I should have started a pool on how long that would take! Actually, I'm surprised it took this long."

He gave her a baleful glare. "Hey, just 'cause you're the Ice Queen..."

"Here's our transportation now," Cas called out, cutting them off. A covered wagon with four large plough horses pulled up. An older man with a bushy white moustache tugged on the reins to get the horses to stop, and then he hopped nimbly out of the bench seat.

Dean was open-mouthed. Cas had to be kidding them with this. But Nicole was smiling. "Why do I have this sudden urge for a German beer?" she quipped.

"Cas, what the hell?!" Dean exclaimed, trailing behind his friend as Cas went to check the horses. Cas gave the man who had brought the wagon some money from his wallet, and the older man walked away.

"I told you, Dean, we're going to a very rural region," Cas said calmly, patting the nose of the horse that stood in the front of the team. It whinnied softly, causing Gail's lips to twitch. Some things never changed.

Including Dean, who wasn't giving up. Cas moved around to the horses on the other side, and Dean followed close behind. "Why can't you guys just zap us all over there?" the elder Winchester pestered the Angel.

Cas stopped short. "Because, Dean," he answered simply.

"Oh, well, that clears that up," Dean said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Dean, Sam, please load our baggage into the wagon," Cas went on, as if his friend hadn't spoken. "I will give the horses some water, before we set out."

Now Gail was fighting not to laugh. Dean looked like he was going to have an embolism. She thought he would have been used to this kind of stuff from Cas by now. Her husband had his reasons for wanting to travel this way, she was sure. Truthfully, it didn't really bother Gail, one way or the other. She had her gloves, earmuffs, and hood on, didn't she?

Cas looked at his friends. "When we get into the really cold region, your faces may start to freeze," he said earnestly.

Nicole shrugged. "All in a day," she remarked casually. "Ottawa winters are like that, too."

"I wish I'd been able to persuade you to buy a fur coat," Cas fretted, wrapping a scarf around Gail's neck.

She smiled at him. "I'll be fine, sweetie. You worry too much." But, truth be told, Gail would never have been able to bring herself to buy a fur coat, anyway. Liz had been completely against the idea of fur coats. Gail's dear friend and Cas had had a bit of a spirited debate about the subject in Heaven, once. Liz had said that, maybe wearing the pelts of dead animals would have been fine back in the olden days, when there was very little choice. But with all the synthetic fabric these days, that was no longer an excuse. Cas had ceded her point, but whether that had just been for Gail's sake had been open to question. Still, when Gail had put her foot down, refusing to purchase fur for this trip, Cas had recognized that his efforts to persuade his wife would be futile. And, even though furs would indeed have kept her warmer, he supposed he could see where Gail was coming from. Out of all the losses they'd suffered, Liz's had probably hit Gail the hardest. And if she felt that she could not wear fur in order to honour her deceased friend's memory, Cas would respect that.

Dean was still staring at Cas, but to no avail. Once he'd bundled Gail up as best he could, Cas had moved on, to care for the horses. Sam picked up a couple of their bags and took them over to the wagon. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. They would have to try to squeeze the information out of their friend once they got going.

Dean made an impatient noise, and then joined his brother in the loading process.

Valentina had decided to tell Rowena about her vendetta, and the reason behind it. She felt the compulsion to punish Grigori so strongly that she was willing to confess to her utter humiliation, in order to receive the help she needed. She even told Rowena about the fact that the group of Hunters and Angels were headed to Siberia to locate him, at this very moment. But she drew the line at telling her former mentor about Madame Laveau's secret. It wasn't Valentina's story to tell, and she couldn't help but think of the fact that Rowena had betrayed Marie, back then. And, as a ghost, Valentina could tell that Rowena was obviously an ancient being, but she was not immortal. Therefore, that meant that she had never become privy to Marie's spell.

However, that didn't mean that Rowena was a fool, either. When Valentina had finished her tale of woe, the redheaded witch knew that there was more to the story than Valentina was telling her. But she also knew that the ghost was being reticent for a reason.

So, Rowena went on a fishing expedition: "Did Marie tell you about why she was so upset with me?" She wasn't stupid, and she certainly wasn't born yesterday. Rowena had known that Marie was angry with her; she just hadn't been sure exactly why.

But Valentina was taken in, now. "Yes," she said, sighing. "And I have to say, I agreed with her. How could you, Rowena? How could you sleep with the man who Madame Marie loved, at that Solstice celebration?"

Rowena was a little bit taken aback by that, but her lips twitched, nonetheless. "You're going to have to narrow that down, dearie. Clearly, you've never been to a Solstice celebration."

"She said his name was Vincent," Valentina said.

The redheaded witch was astonished. Vincent?! The man Marie loved was Vincent? "Since when?" she blurted out. "The two of them never even exchanged one word! She never even cast eyes on him, when we were in the same room!" But now, Rowena was thinking back. It had been a completely different era back then, even for people like them. Witches, that was. And Marie had had two separate challenges: she was a woman, and she was black. Actually, Rowena supposed she needed to add a third strike to the mix: Most so-called decent people did not take kindly to witches even now, in modern times, let alone back in the age she and Marie had come from. Magic had helped Marie to overcome many barriers, but there were still quite a few obstacles for someone in her position. Was it possible, then, that Rowena's partner had felt an unexpressed love for Vincent, one she'd been too shy to do anything about? Rowena thought back on the Solstice celebrations. Did she even recall seeing Marie there, for longer than a few minutes? After the two of them had arrived and the revels had begun in earnest, Rowena had been deep in her cups and dizzy from the ceremonial potion they'd all imbibed. Then she had made the acquaintance of a few of the men from other, foreign covens, and then she had found herself alone with Vincent. Had she known back then what she knew now, Rowena would never have lifted her skirts for Vincent. But she had, and from what she could recall of the transaction, he had been very, very good. Of course, he had also knocked her up with not one but two babies, and that misfortune had arguably been the start of many a contentious issue, going forward.

Maybe Rowena should go back to New Orleans, and talk to Marie. "Wait here," she instructed Valentina, and then she vanished.

Despite their bravado at the outset of the journey, Nicole and Gail were finding that the longer the trek lasted and the further into the region they got, the colder the temperature became.

All five of them had been taking turns seeking warmth inside the wagon, with Cas doing the lion's share of the driving. The cold didn't bother him as much, although he was now feeling its effects, as well.

At the moment Cas was up front driving the team of horses, and Dean was sitting beside his friend. "Son of a bitch, it's cold," Dean groused.

"I told you that you should go inside, out of the wind," Cas said patiently.

Dean shrugged. "Aaah, somebody's gotta keep you company," he said.

Cas smiled at his friend. "I appreciate that, Dean, but you'll forgive me if I say that I think you have an ulterior motive. Ask your questions, and I'll answer what I can."

Dean let out a frustrated breath, and a big plume of white steam issued from his mouth. "OK, Cas, let's try this again: Why are we freezing our butts off like this? Why couldn't you and Mrs. Buzzkill just zap us over there?"

His Angel friend sighed. "Truthfully, I suppose we could have. But I wanted some time to think. I have to approach him very carefully, Dean. He has no reason at all to want to talk to me, or to help me. None."

Dean was silent. Cas had a good point. What could you threaten a guy who was supposedly immortal WITH?

Even though it went against her better judgement, Marie responded to Rowena's summons. Curiosity had gotten the best of her. She had heard Valentina's calls, but Marie had been extremely leery of answering them. Why would her former pupil be calling for her now, after all this time? No; there was something about it that was highly suspicious. So she had ignored the summons. But now, Rowena was calling her former partner, and from what was virtually Marie's backyard. What was going on?

"Ma cher," Marie said, appearing to Rowena within the cemetery walls. It was full dark there, and the main gates were closed. They would not be interrupted. "How is our dear young Valentina?"

Rowena's lips pressed together. "Besides being dead, you mean?" she said tartly.

Marie continued to stare at Rowena. Exactly how much did she know? Had Valentina told the redheaded witch about the immortality potion?

Then, Rowena surprised her. "I'm here to ask you a question, and I'd like you to answer it honesty," she said softly. "Were you in love with Vincent?"

Gail came out of the covered part of the wagon and persuaded Cas to go inside and warm up for a few minutes. Her husband reluctantly agreed, passing the reins to Dean, after she demurred.

"If I can't even ride one horse, what makes him think that I can get a whole group of them to do what I want?" Gail quipped to her friend.

"So, is this cold enough for you?" Dean asked her with a baleful look.

She returned his look with one of her own. "You must have me mixed up with that other Angel, the one who can actually influence the weather," Gail retorted. "But, for the record, I'm cold, too."

She shivered, as if to emphasize her point. Wasn't this just too ironic? It was a classic case of Be Careful What You Wish For.

Dean's eyebrows rose, which was somewhat of a miracle, seeing as he was sure they were frozen solid by now. "YOU'RE cold?" he wisecracked. "OK, that's it. It's officially the end of the world, as we know it."

"I FEEL like we're at the end of the world, at least geographically," Gail remarked. "I knew this area was remote, but this is ridiculous."

"Plus, these horses can pull a lot of weight, but they're slow," Dean added. "We got passed by a guy on a dogsled, a little while ago."

"Hey, what was that crack about the horses? Are you calling me fat?" she joked, elbowing him. Dean grinned.

They rode on in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, and then Dean broke the quiet. "What's going on, Gail? I mean, what's REALLY going on?"

Aww, geez. "What's going on is that I'm freezing my bum off," was what she came back with. "It's too bad we can't light a fire."

She'd started off just trying to throw Dean off the scent, but now, Gail sat up straighter. "Wait a minute. I think I'm about to be brilliant, here." She turned around and scrambled into the back of the wagon.

"Come here, my love," Cas said, holding a blanket open for his wife. He had been about to spell Dean at the reins, anyway, but Cas wanted to make sure that Gail was warmed up, first.

"I had an idea," she told him, taking off her gloves. She reached into her pants pocket and took out her blade. "I have the ability to produce those beams of light, and cut into walls with this. Is there any way I can use it to light a small fire? I thought, if we could heat up our hats and gloves..."

"I don't think that's such a great idea," Sam said cautiously, glancing up at the canvas that covered the wagon bed. "Not unless we're going to run the risk of losing our shelter, here."

"Yes, that would be too risky," Cas agreed, but he was looking thoughtful now. He believed that Gail was on to something; they just needed to work out the logistics.

"I have some heavy-duty rubber hot water bottles in my bag," Nicole piped up. "If we can get you to melt some snow and then heat up the water, we can fill them, and put them inside our clothes."

"That's it!" Sam enthused. "That'll work nicely."

Nicole grinned. "Good stuff! I'll go out there and tell Dean that help is on the way. If I had a dime for every time he's said 'son of a bitch' since we left the train station, I could probably retire."

"Welcome to my life," Sam wisecracked, as Nicole grabbed her bag to give the empty hot water bottles to the Angels. Nicole laughed, and then she went out to where Dean was.

He brightened when he saw her. "Here, help me steer," he said. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, putting the reins in her hands.

"I know you're used to a lot more horsepower than this," Nicole said lightly, nudging her boyfriend and smiling.

"Are you sorry you came, now?" he asked her. "Cas is keeping us in the deep freeze here for some stupid reason, and all Gail can do is crack jokes. Damn Angels."

"Did he tell you why we can't just pop over there?" Nicole asked him softly. "Or, did you manage to pry anything out of Gail?"

"No, and no," Dean said glumly.

"Damn Angels," Nicole echoed, snuggling closer to him.

Marie stared evenly at her former partner. "Why do you ask?" she said coolly.

"You know why," Rowena countered with.

Both women were silent, waiting to see who would give in first. It was obvious to Marie that Rowena was on a fishing expedition, and Madame Laveau was disinclined to enlighten her. Once all of Vincent's children were dead, and then he was, too, Marie would deal with Rowena personally. But not before then. "Why are you playing messenger for Valentina?" she asked Rowena instead.

"She said you wouldn't answer her calls," Rowena explained. "She told me that there are Angels and Hunters on their way to Siberia right now, looking to find the man who killed her."

Marie's eyebrows rose. "Well, isn't that interesting," she remarked in a casual voice, but she actually was quite interested in what they were going to find, once they got there. Marie had absolutely no doubt, none at all, that Valentina's paramour had ingested the immortality potion himself, and then murdered the poor young girl. Marie wasn't very happy that Valentina had involved Rowena, but now that she knew what was really going on, the Creole witch understood. What had happened between Rowena and Vincent was extremely important to Marie, but it was also immaterial to this particular situation. If it was possible for Valentina to exact some measure of revenge on the man who had treated her so shabbily, why should they not help her? Marie understood very well the concept of revenge; after all, she had based her entire, lengthy, eternal existence on it. When she had first come up with the properties of the immortality spell, the idea had been for Marie to be able to exist forever, in order to have more time for...well, everything. Life was much too short. So often, Marie had seen people die before their time, leaving their dreams unrealized. Even most of the rich, elderly white ladies who used to come to her for readings. She'd heard it over and over again: If I'd only had more time, I could truly have been happy.

But Rowena and Vincent had destroyed Marie's dream of happiness, and now, the only thing that kept the Creole witch going was the goal of revenge. That was all she had left. So, yes, she understood how Valentina felt. Completely.

There was only one problem, and it was the problem that Cas was wrestling with now, too: how did you kill a person who had been made immortal?

"I will come with you to see our Valentina," Marie told Rowena in a cool tone. "I think it's time we talked about a few things. Don't you?"

Rowena regarded the other woman warily. She realized that Marie had never answered her question about Vincent. But wasn't that the answer, in and of itself? Her former partner had an inscrutable look on her face, but Rowena was feeling a very strange sensation now. Was it possible? Could she be feeling guilty?

"I'll tell you where Valentina is, but then, I'll have to go," Rowena stated. "I was in the middle of something when she summoned me."

Marie almost smiled. This was the worst decision Rowena would have ever made. Well, the second-worst. The worst had been deciding to seduce Vincent at that Solstice, before Marie could even work up the nerve to speak to him. But this had been an extremely unfortunate decision on Rowena's part, too. Now, she would never find out about the immortality spell. Marie had been contemplating whether or not to disclose that particular little gem in Rowena's presence. But Rowena's refusal to accompany her to see Valentina was the wake-up call Marie had needed. For all her talk about the so-called Sisterhood, Rowena obviously had no interest in anyone's welfare but her own. Some things never changed, did they?

The revolving door of shelter from the cold and wind continued, and now it was Gail and Nicole on the bench seat beside Cas, who was driving the team of horses. Dean and Sam were filling their hot water bottles with the water that Gail had just heated. They had passed one out to Cas, after giving the first ones to the ladies.

Cas was finally feeling the cold now too, so he could just imagine how the others were feeling. They were all being very brave about it, though. Even Dean had stopped complaining. Sam had been making nervous jokes about the Donner party, and the women were shivering, but stoic.

Cas felt terrible. In his attempts to buy some time before confronting Anthony, he had put them all in an extremely uncomfortable situation. He should have just given in and teleported them to Kebet a long time ago. Gail and Nicole, at least.

But they were only about 35 kilometres from the village now, Cas knew. He had been navigating by the stars, just as they had all done before the advent of technology. Maybe that was really why he had favoured getting here this way. He had probably been hoping that the old-fashioned mode of transportation would clear his mind, and simplify things. It hadn't worked, though. They were roughly 20 miles from the village of Kebet now, and he still had no clue how he was going to even try to communicate with Anthony, when they found him. How should Castiel play their reunion, for lack of a better term? Should he go in hot, and try to intimidate his former Brother? Or should he try to be conciliatory first, in an attempt to wheedle the information out of him? Of course, the conciliatory approach might be a hard sell, considering the fact that Cas had been stabbing Anthony repeatedly with an Angel blade when they had seen each other last. But then, why had he not died? The ghost at Nicole's house had said that "Rasputin" had unlocked the secret of immortality, that was why. Which brought Cas back, full circle, to the dilemma of how to deal with the man.

The only consolation Cas had at the moment was the fact that the closer they got to Kebet, the more convinced he became that Anthony was indeed there. Cas felt a sort of tightness in both his head, and the muscles in his neck. Angels could almost always sense each others' presences, unless there were extenuating factors involved. That was the only current advantage that Cas and Gail held: they still had their warding tattoos. But there was something "off" about what Cas was sensing now, too. Like the smell of food that was past its expiration date. In spite of the fact that he didn't eat, or maybe because of it, Castiel had always been able to detect such things, before his human friends could. This felt like that, now. Whatever Anthony was, he was no longer a full Angel. He was spoiled. Tainted, somehow. Would that make him more difficult to deal with? Or would he be more apt to respond to underhanded tactics?

Valentina and Marie had their slightly awkward reunion, and now they were discussing the logistics of the immortality spell.

"I'm sorry, ma cher, but I know of no way to reverse the spell," Marie was telling her former pupil. "The wording I used was very specific: 'Negatem morte. Ultime la vie pour personne qui a une ame'."

"What does that mean, Madame?" Valentina asked her timidly.

"It means that the person who has ingested the potion will not die. Eternal life is granted, for any person who has a soul," Marie replied. "I wanted to make sure that, should the potion fall into the wrong hands, it would not work on an otherworldly being."

The closer they got to the village, the more pronounced Castiel's distaste became. Now, Gail was sensing something, too. She lifted her head and looked around, as if trying to discover the source of an unpleasant smell.

As Cas announced that their journey was at an end, the group could see lights popping up in the distance, presumably coming from the windows of some of the houses. Cas had advised his companions that electric lighting would not be available in such a remote location. What they were seeing now would be candlelight, or kerosene lamps.

Sam and Dean were poking their heads out of the back of the wagon, now.

"So, what's the plan?" Dean asked their Angel friend. "Are we just gonna ride down the one road they have here, and yell for him to come out?"

"That won't be necessary," Anthony said, appearing suddenly in front of the wagon.

Cas pulled the horses to a halt. Strangely enough, even though he had spent the entire journey worrying about how to approach Anthony, now that they were face to face, Cas felt calm.

"Let's talk," the entity the history books knew as Grigori Rasputin said.

Valentina was downcast. All of this had been for nothing. There was no way to reverse the spell. No way to make Grigori pay for what he had done. Her mind took her back to that night, to how awestruck and terrified she'd been when she had witnessed Madame Marie making up the potion. Saying the words that she now knew to be a hodgepodge of Latin and French: "Negatem morte. Ultime la vie pour - "

"Wait a minute," Valentina said to her former mentor. "That's NOT what you said."

"Pardonnez-moi?" Marie said, her eyes narrowing.

"You didn't say that," the young-looking ghost repeated. "You didn't say 'pour une personne qui a une ame'. You said 'une personne qui possede son ame'."

"I did?" the Creole witch asked curiously. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I remember now!" Valentina said excitedly.

Marie was thoughtful. Even if that WAS what she had actually said, she doubted very much that it would make a difference.

"Can you help me with the location spell?" Valentina asked Madame Laveau, smiling. Marie pitied the girl, but she didn't quite have the heart to tell her. So, the older witch tried a different tactic, instead. "I'm unable to locate Angels, cherie, or Hunters, either," she said with a frown.

That was when Valentina showed her the page she had torn out of the Romanov family Bible, the one that sat on the bookshelf in the living room area of Nicole's house in Ottawa. "The woman who this belongs to is neither of those things. She is a Romanov," she said, proudly handing the page to Madame Laveau.

VIGNETTE - KATHMANDU

"Make yourselves comfortable," Anthony said to the group. "You must all be very cold." He smiled at Gail and Nicole. "Ladies, please take the cushions that are closest to the fire. I will pour some brandy, to warm you." He looked at the men. "Please, come in. Sit down. You must introduce me to your friends, Castiel." He moved over to a table that held a carafe of amber liquid and some drinking glasses, on a tray. "You should have told me you were coming. I could have had some hot soup on the fire."

Anthony brought the tray over to the table in the centre of the room, as the five of them took their seats. He poured brandy for them all, himself included. "A toast," he said, lifting his glass to Castiel. "To old friends, and to new ones."

Cas glared at him, but he raised his glass in return. Anthony was using old-world manners, trying to be charming. If Castiel responded in kind, maybe his former Brother would be inclined to answer some questions. So, even though it sickened him to do so, Cas took a sip of brandy and then made the introductions.

When Cas introduced Gail as his wife, Anthony's smile widened. "Really?!" he exclaimed, rushing over to where Gail was trying to settle onto her cushion without falling off, or spilling her drink. Nicole was trying valiantly not to laugh at her friend, but it was hard not to. While Nicole had already settled herself comfortably, Gail had been having trouble. She'd perched on one side of the cushion, and then, when it had inevitably tilted, she'd made a huffing sound, then tried again. But the second time, she'd overcorrected, succeeding only in tilting her cushion the opposite way. All throughout the operation, Gail had been keeping one eye on the snifter in her hand, trying not to spill its contents. She'd been looking forward to warming herself both inside and out, but the stupid pillow wasn't cooperating. Who sat on cushions on the floor, anyway? Gail thought, frustrated. Nicole made a sound that was dangerously close to a giggle as Gail glared at the pillow, daring it to tilt again. Then Gail looked at her sharply, and Nicole manufactured a cough. Actually, now that she was inside and warming up a bit, that wasn't difficult.

Gail let out an angry breath, struggling to her feet. Anthony rushed to help her. "Please, allow me," he said. He plucked the snifter deftly from her hand and used his other hand to help her up. Cas's frown deepened.

"Thanks," Gail said to the man. "I'm not really much of a floor person, anyway," she added, rather unnecessarily.

If Anthony was amused, he didn't let on. "My sincere apologies, malen'kiy," he said in a silky-smooth tone. "I merely wished for you to warm yourself by the fire. I know that today's women are much more independent, but I also know that such lovely ladies are to be protected at all costs." His smile returned as he encompassed Nicole in his gaze. "You will have to forgive me. Village life is very hard on the local women. It's been quite some time since my humble abode has been graced with such beauty."

Anthony handed the snifter back to Gail. "But, I can see that Castiel has a certain look in his eye, now," the former Angel continued. "Perhaps you had best go and sit beside your husband, malen'kiy."

"Her name is Gail," Cas growled as Sam and Dean made room for her on the sofa beside Cas. The Angel supposed that Anthony using the Russian term for "little one" in reference to Gail wasn't so bad; not really. Not until Castiel reminded himself who this man really was, and what he had done.

"What ARE you, now?" Cas blurted out. So much for the conciliatory approach.

"I'm sorry, Brother?" Anthony said calmly, sitting in the armchair beside the couch and sipping at his brandy.

"You heard me," Cas said, trying his best to match Anthony's calm tone. "You're not one hundred percent Angel, you're not a human..."

Anthony shrugged. "I dislike labels, Castiel. You know that. They're so restrictive."

Cas's hand tightened around his brandy snifter. "Fine. I'll ask you another question, then. Are you still preaching false Gospel, and raping your acolytes?"

Nicole just about fell off her cushion, and Dean gazed at Cas, trying to communicate non-verbally. If this was Cas's idea of diplomacy, it sure left a lot to be desired.

But Anthony was still calm. Dean was incredulous. What the hell was up with this guy? Was he ON something? Then, it struck Dean where he'd seen this type of expression before: on the faces of those crazy-ass cult leaders. Moonies. Jim Jones. That guy who'd convinced his followers to kill themselves, so the aliens would come and take them away in spaceships. Those guys.

"Now, Castiel, you know that there are many versions of the Gospel," Anthony said. "You and I used to have many a philosophical discussion about that very thing, if you'll recall. Half of the Bible, at least the version of it that exists currently on Earth, consists of the Old Testament. Much of that section appears to be devoted to the depiction of God the Father destroying cities and entire civilizations, and then putting them back together again. And, as you're well aware, He had quite a bit of help, on both sides of that equasion. But, what of the New Testament?"

"What OF it?" Cas rasped angrily.

Anthony stared at him for a moment, a strange little smile playing on his lips. "I know you're anxious to ask me your questions, but let me tell you a little tale, first. Your cute little wife and your friends need to warm up a bit more, and I still have some brandy. In fact, I think I'll break out the Royal stock. This is quite the occasion. If you'll excuse me, I'll just go and get it."

"I can't allow that," Cas said quickly. But Anthony smiled knowingly. "There would be nothing you could do about it, if I decided to leave here," the former Angel stated. "But I assure you, I have no intention of leaving." He rose from his chair, looking at Nicole, then at Gail, and then back at the men. "I welcome the company, and the lively conversation," he added. Then he walked swiftly out of the room.

Cas let out an angry breath. "He hasn't answered any of my questions," he complained. "He just keeps on talking, and saying nothing of substance."

"We have a guy like that in Vancouver. He won the last election," Nicole quipped nervously.

"Cas, what are you planning to do with this guy?" Sam piped up. "Do you really think he's gonna tell you anything of substance?"

"Or is he just dicking us around, like Crowley would?" Dean added.

Cas was troubled. Their point was well taken, but: "I need to hear what he's got to say, just in case," he told the others. "Then, depending upon what it is, we will proceed accordingly."

The Winchesters exchanged glances. They guessed that was fair enough.

Anthony returned, with a bottle in each hand. "We're in luck," he announced cheerfully. "I had two of them left. These are the last of the Tsar's private stock, unfortunately. But I can't think of a more appropriate occasion, can you, Castiel?"

Anthony moved to where Nicole sat. "Ladies first," he said, extending the bottle. She had been prepared to refuse, but now it occurred to her that he was offering her a drink directly from her ancestors' liquor cabinet. So to speak. How could she possibly refuse? So she held her glass out to him wordlessly, and he poured her a generous portion.

Then Anthony moved to refill Gail's snifter. "You must tell me all about your wedding," he said to her. "I'm very glad that Castiel finally found his One True Mate. We used to talk about that, too. I was never interested in monogamy myself, but it's good to see that it can work for some people. Pity I wasn't able to be there to witness the ceremony. But Castiel wouldn't have thought to include me on the guest list, seeing as he was quite certain he'd murdered me, back in 1916."

Gail took a swig of her brandy, and then she blurted out, "I remember you, you know."

"Do you?" Anthony said mildly, returning to his seat. He put the bottles down on the table, gesturing. "Help yourselves, Gentlemen. It's of very good quality, I assure you."

"How are you still in existence?" Cas asked him. "I saw your vessel laying dead, by the river. And I know your essence didn't escape."

Anthony held up a finger. "Now, now. I promised you a tale, and a tale you shall have. Then we can discuss other subjects, afterwards."

Anthony took another drink, and then he began: "This is a story about Kathmandu, the capital city of Nepal, and an event that took place there."

"Isn't that supposed to be KATmandu? You know, like the Bob Seger song?" Dean said, reaching for one of the bottles.

The former Angel stared at him balefully. "The 'h' is not silent," he stated. "At any rate, in the mid-1700s, I can't recall exactly when, there was a monarchy in place, and the region was flourishing. King Prithvi Narayan Shah captured small principalities and annexed them to be part of his Kingdom."

"That'd be one helluva name to have on a ballot," Nicole quipped, and then she set her glass down on the floor. Better go easy on this stuff for a while.

Anthony's mouth tightened, but he went on: "Nepal had a Royal family massacre on June 1, 2001, at a house on the grounds of the Narayanhity Royal Palace. King Prithvi's descendants had reigned there for all that time without a violent uprising, which was an unusual situation in those days, to say the least. But in the early 2000s, ten members of the Royal family were killed by Prince Dipendra, during a family dinner party. The victims included the reigning King and Queen. The Prince opened fire and wiped out most of the line of succession, in one fell swoop. Then, he shot himself in the head. But he still lived, and because he was next in line to hold the throne, he was crowned King, even while he was in a comatose state from the head wound. He died three days later. But, many questions about the incident still abound. It was rumoured that Prince Gyarenda, who was absent from the party, was actually the mastermind behind the killings. The shooter, Prince Dipendra, was right-handed, but the head wound he sustained was at his left temple. And when they looked more closely, not one but two bullets were found lodged in his skull. The investigation, such as it was, lasted a mere two weeks, and no forensics analysis was done. And this so-called investigation was only carried out after Scotland Yard offered to do one. But then, the case was closed. It was determined that Prince Dipendra was the killer, and that he had then committed suicide. And that was the end of it."

"Wow," Sam remarked quietly. "That whole thing reeks of conspiracy. No forensics? Sounds like a classic cover-up."

"It kind of sounds like the Romanovs," Nicole stated.

Anthony looked at Dean's girlfriend. "How very astute of you to say so," he said softly.

"What has any of this got to do with anything?" Cas said irritably. "Why did you follow Gail, when she was a little girl? What ABOUT the Romanovs? Are you immortal?"

"Have some more brandy, Castiel. Maybe it'll calm you down," Anthony said in an arrogant tone.

"Are you sure you know my husband?" Gail quipped.

"All right, Castiel. I will confirm to you what you already know," the former Angel stated. "Yes, I am immortal. Before you attempted to end my existence, I was engaged to a young witch who gave me a potion to take, guaranteeing me eternal life."

"You're a liar!" Valentina screamed.

They all gasped, even Cas. The young woman's ghost had appeared in the room just in time to hear what Anthony had said.

"Who are you?" Sam asked her.

"My name is Valentina," she responded angrily. "I am the witch he is speaking about. And yes, unfortunately, he has been made immortal. But everything else he told you is a lie. We were never engaged! I thought we were to be wed, so I brought Grigori the potion. But I found him here with another woman. He betrayed me, and then he murdered me, and drank the potion we were both supposed to take."

"Oh, nice," Dean said sarcastically. "Nice behaviour for an Angel, there, Tony."

"Angel? 'Tony'? What are you talking about?" Valentina said sharply. "This is Grigori Rasputin, a holy healer."

Cas laughed scornfully. "No. No, he is not. He is an Angel named Anthony. Or at least, he was. He is nothing but an abomination, now."

"An Angel?!" Valentina exclaimed. She glared at Anthony. "Were you an Angel when you and I were together?"

He was uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. Why, after all this time, would Valentina just suddenly show up here now? And just when he had been having so much fun toying with Castiel, too. When a man such as his former Angel Brother sat there looking so disconcerted, it was difficult not to revel in it. Especially since Anthony know something that Castiel did not. A very, very big something.

Ah, well. No matter. There was nothing that any of them could do to harm him. "Yes," he answered Valentina. "Yes, I was an Angel."

She was staring at him now, unnerving him with her demeanour. Valentina had been extremely angry when she had first appeared here, and even Anthony had to admit that was understandable. But suddenly, she smiled.

"YOU are an Angel, correct?" Valentina asked, turning her attention to Cas.

Like everyone else, he was confused as to exactly what was going on here, but Cas nodded. "Yes, I am," he confirmed.

Then she said something very strange: "And Angels have no souls, isn't that true?"

"That is true," Cas replied, still puzzled.

Valentina approached Anthony, who stood from his chair. "Then you are no more immortal than I was, back then," she said to him triumphantly.

"What are you talking about, my girl?" Anthony said, frowning.

"I'm talking about the spell," she responded. "'Negatem morte. Ultime la vie pour une personne qui a une ame'."

"'Eternal life for any person who has a soul'," Gail translated.

"Exactly," Valentina said, smiling.

Cas stood, and then he started to smile, too. "That's very helpful to know," he remarked in a casual tone. He opened his jacket, reaching for his blade. "And now, I believe our conversation has come to an end."

"Wait," Anthony said, and incredibly, his smile was even wider than theirs, now. Dean and Sam exchanged glances. What the hell? Was he nuts? "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I do have a soul."

Cas's expression was skeptical. "How can that be?"

"I appropriated Rasputin's soul, when I took his body," Anthony said smugly.

Cas paused in the act of removing his blade from his pocket. "What? What did you say?" he said in his quiet voice.

The others all looked puzzled, including Gail. "What does that mean?" she blurted out. She'd never heard of that before.

"It means that he stole it," Cas said in a clipped tone. "That is the worst thing that an Angel could ever do. No wonder you reek like last week's garbage," he added contemptuously.

Nicole made an "O" with her mouth, and Dean's lips twitched furiously. He would have to congratulate their Angel friend on such a great smackdown line, once they got out of here. He and Sam exchanged glances again. This Angel stuff was a little out of their wheelhouse, but they were ready to provide Cas with backup, if he needed it. And as far as the ghost went, right now it looked like the only one she wanted to wreak vengeance on was Anthony.

"Not so fast," Valentina said, holding her hand up. "You've told us exactly what we needed to hear. I found out that the wording of the spell was inadvertently rephrased. Therefore, the caster of the incantation changed its meaning. The actual wording of the spell was 'pour une personne qui possede son ame'."

Gail and Cas looked at each other, and their faces broke into smiles. "What?" Dean said irritably. "What does that mean?"

"It means: Eternal life for a person who OWNS a soul," Cas answered his friend. He looked at Anthony with a glint in his blue eyes. "That soul you appropriated is stolen; therefore, you do not own it."

"Finally, I can take my vengeance!" Valentina exclaimed. She thrust her arms out towards the man who had killed her, and he was slammed back down into the chair. At the same time, Cas rushed over there. He took the sigil handcuffs out of his opposite jacket pocket and slapped one of the cuffs on Anthony's wrist, surprising his former Brother. Anthony tried to wink out, but he was unable. Cas seized his other arm and pulled it behind his back, clamping the other cuff shut, hard.

Anthony was panicked now. How had the tables turned on him so quickly?

"Now Castiel, let's talk about this," Anthony said nervously, but Cas already had his Angel blade out. "The time for talking has passed," he snarled.

"Wait!" Anthony yelled in desperation. "In order to kill me, you will have to also kill the viable soul within me!"

Cas's knife hand paused. Of course. Anthony was right. In the heat of his anger, Cas had forgotten about that. If he were to proceed, he would be destroying the soul of an innocent victim. That was the kind of Angel - no, the kind of man - he used to be. A couple of decades ago, he would have run his blade right through Anthony without a second thought. But, a couple of decades ago, he had been Castiel, warrior Angel of the Lord. Now he was Cas, and while he was still a warrior Angel and always would be, he was so much more than that now. Angels did not have corporeal souls, but Cas firmly believed that they had figurative ones. To destroy a human soul now would put a stain on Cas's metaphorical soul, a black mark that he would never be able to fully atone for. He glanced at Nicole. Her grandmother, Tatiana Romanov, had told them that she had loved Grigori Rasputin in the purest of ways as a child, and as a young woman. She had described him as a mystical figure, who healed children and wrote of love. Perhaps the real Rasputin had been in there, influencing Anthony for the better in some ways.

Cas looked at Sam and Dean. His wonderful friends. No; his brothers. They had been influencing Cas for the better, ever since he had come into their lives, and decided to stay. God had not directed Castiel to watch over the Winchesters, at all; that was just what Cas had led the brothers to believe, so that they would welcome his presence. Then, after a time, the men had begun to grow closer and to rely on each other. And now, it was unimaginable to think of being apart from them for an extended period of time.

Finally, Cas looked at Gail, and his blade hand trembled. His dear, sweet wife. Didn't he owe it to her to be the best kind of man he could be? If the Winchesters had provided Cas with an elementary education on love, loyalty, and human foibles, then Gail had surely taught Cas the remainder, on a Graduate level. No one had loved Cas more dearly and stuck by him more fiercely than Gail. No one. What would she think of him now, if he went ahead and obliterated a human soul?

"Please, Castiel," Anthony begged the Angel. "Please don't kill me. I can make it worth your while. You asked me earlier why I attempted to communicate with your wife, when she was a child. I was trying to help you. I still can, Castiel. If you will spare my life, I can help you to uncover the truth."

"The truth about WHAT?" Cas said angrily.

"The Coptic Codices," Anthony replied quickly. "I can find out where they are. I can - "

"We already know where they are," Cas informed him. "I will ask you this only one more time: what ABOUT them?"

"You KNOW where they are?" Anthony said, shocked. He was astonished at the news. "Have you seen them? Have you READ them?"

Cas was disturbed. As his human friends might say, he had completely "dropped the ball" when it came to those Codices. Rowena still had them, as far as he knew. Cas had been very interested in those, simply because they were rumoured to be the Word of the Father, Himself. But now, Anthony seemed to be suggesting that there was a more personal significance to the ancient documents than Cas had suspected. Still:

"If the only thing you had to tell me was the fact that you were able to locate the Codices, you are of no use to me," Cas said, raising his blade hand again.

"No! Wait!"

But this time, it was Valentina who had raised the objection. Cas eyed her, curious. Was she going to plead for Anthony's life too, out of a sense of misplaced sentiment?

"What will happen to you, if you kill the human soul within him?" Valentina asked Cas.

"Nothing," Cas said calmly, although his stomach was churning. Yes; perhaps.

The ghost nodded, as if he'd spoken further. She didn't believe that for a minute. Certain decisions carried certain consequences. Suddenly, she rushed forward and seized the blade from Cas's hand, turning it around in her own hand and plunging it into Anthony's chest. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

"I am damned, anyway," Valentina said sadly. She looked at Nicole. "I caused some of the men who were working at your home to be seriously injured, seeking vengeance on this man, by proxy." She gestured to Anthony, who was slumping in the chair now, Cas's Angel blade still imbedded in his chest. The essence was leaking slowly from Anthony's mouth now. It was a peculiar combination of colours, one that Gail had never seen before. Cas had, but only a handful of times. It was the essence of a corrupted Angel, and it was an extremely ugly sight.

"None of those men died, but I hurt them very badly," Valentina went on. "I chose to do so. I accept my fate." She began to fade away, and after a moment, she was gone.

"Preserve my essence," Anthony gasped. "Find me a new vessel."

Cas stared at him, incredulous. He had to be kidding.

"Help me to survive, and I will help you, Castiel," Anthony tried again, but he had slumped further down in the chair, and his voice was growing weaker. "The murders will continue, unless you are able to uncover the truth. I tried to warn your wife, years ago. Burn those Codices. Otherwise, you will unleash pure Evil. Baktiotha."

The last of Anthony's essence escaped his lips. It floated in wisps up to the ceiling, and then dissipated. Anthony's head drooped onto his chest. He was finally, blessedly, dead.

BOOK II - I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

CASTIEL - I've Had Enough

Cas was in the dining room of their house, setting up the coffee and dishes for the breakfast buffet they were going to serve, once their human family got here. Gail was in the kitchen getting everything ready in there, prior to the first arrivals.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve. In some ways, not too much had changed since the five of them had come back from Kebet. But in other ways, quite a few things had, or were about to.

There had been many conversations since the day that Anthony had died, about a myriad of different subjects. So many mysteries abounded. So many questions, and very few answers. Cas had led them to Russia in search of intel, and he had come away with nothing. Rather, he had come away with even more questions, and a deeper mystery.

Anthony's demeanour had surprised Cas. He had expected his former Brother to be more than a little contentious, to say the least. But he had greeted Castiel and his party with equanimity, playing host to them with his own particular brand of charm. Because Castiel knew who and what Anthony had truly been, his behaviour had been sickening to behold. But, if Cas were to be objective, he could understand how the former Angel's old-world manners and courtliness to women had allowed him to penetrate the walls of the Royal palace, all those years ago.

But it was what Anthony had said, more than how he had behaved, that Cas had been puzzling over, ever since that day. Why had he talked about the New Testament, and the murders in Kathmandu? Two Royal families massacred, and Anthony had seemed to be suggesting that there was a connection. And then there was that whole thing about his unnerving appearance to Gail, when she'd been a little girl. Cas had asked Anthony about all of these things, but he had not received one straight answer. Not one.

But at least the question of whether Anthony was really immortal had been definitively answered. However, his death had left many more questions unanswered. Why had Anthony taken up with a witch in the first place? To get the potion from her? Who had Valentina been, exactly? If she'd brought the man she had known as Rasputin a potion that promised immortality, where had she gotten it? Would it have been effective, had Anthony not purloined the soul of the man whose vessel he'd taken? It would be useful to know that, and it would have been helpful to know more about Valentina herself, and who she may have associated with in the past. But the spirit of the young woman had moved on, now. What had befallen her at Anthony's hands had been tragic, but the things that Valentina had done to those men at Nicole's house had been wrong, too. Cas was glad that the decision as to where Valentina would be placed in the Afterlife wasn't up to him any longer.

It was the cryptic references that Anthony had made to the Coptic Codices that bothered Cas the most. His former Brother had spoken about "the murders", and "the truth". He had advised them to burn the Codices, or "pure Evil" would be unleashed. Then he had invoked the name "Baktiotha", and then he had died. And while Castiel rejoiced in the fact that a truly repugnant individual such as Anthony had been was finally gone, he had to admit that the timing of his demise could certainly have been better.

What was it about those Codices that had prompted such talk? How could the Word of God, if that was truly what they were, "unleash pure Evil"?

Much of the discussion amongst them had been about that very thing. Sam had done some more research on the subject, but very little was known about the Codices, or their possible contents. Cas believed he should at least have a look at them, before any decisions were made. When they had seen Rowena in New Orleans, the witch had advised that she had them stashed away somewhere, and Cas had no reason to believe the situation had changed. Rowena was a lot of things, but she was not unintelligent. Her continued possession of those ancient documents was a good strategical move, on her part.

They now knew that Rowena was still alive, of course. Bobby had told Cas and Gail before they had gone to Russia that the redheaded witch had called him, asking him to meet with her. He'd been suspicious of her motives, but Bobby had gone, anyway. It should have been a shock to find out that she was alive and well, seemingly none the worse for wear from her fatal stab wound at Frank's hands. But, this was Rowena they were talking about. Therefore, Bobby'd found that he wasn't surprised at all. She had told him that she wanted to bury the hatchet, and he'd said dryly that as long as that hatchet wasn't buried in any of their skulls, he would consider it. Then they had talked for a few minutes, and parted amicably enough.

Cas had also been suspicious of her motives, when Bobby had told him about the incident. But Cas had been preoccupied with other matters at the time, and the Angel had decided that if no imminent threat was present, he would not concern himself with her. Now, however, he was considering whether or not to ask Bobby to set up a meeting. But even if Rowena was inclined to let them examine the Codices, at the very least, there was another and far more insidious challenge: Rowena might have possession of the Codices, but the King of Hell was the one who had the Codex for them.

It was a thorny dilemma, one that Cas still hadn't worked out yet. But it was Christmas now, a time to get together with loved ones and celebrate. There would be no talk of death, or Evil, or dire warnings. There would be no talk of the Beast of the Apocalypse. It was time to have a little fun.

"Hey, Assbutt! Merry Christmas!" Dean called out from the front hallway.

Cas smiled, rushing to the source of the sound. Gail was already there, taking everyone's coats. She pressed the bundle she was holding into Cas's arms. He popped the coats over to one of the spare bedrooms and put them on the bed there, then winked himself back to the front hallway, where the humans were stamping snow off their boots.

"You can stop it with the snow any time now, Major Buzzkill," Frank teased Cas. "We nearly got stuck when we turned onto your street."

"That's because you insist on driving here, when we have a whole host of Angels who could pick you up, ya idjits," Bobby said, coming down the hallway from the living room area. He had just arrived with a group of their Angel friends, who were arranging gifts underneath the tree.

"I think we're going to have to update our references," Sam piped up with a big grin on his face.

"Nahh, I think we'll just stick with the ones we have," Dean said, giving Cas a one-armed hug.

"Yes, because the 'Assbutt' reference never gets old," Cas said mildly, but his lips were twitching.

"I'm very impressed with you, right now," Frank said to his brother-in-law. "Up top, for an Atomic high-five."

"An Atomic high-five? What's that?" Gail asked him curiously as the men slapped hands.

Frank shrugged. "Dunno. It's probably the same as a normal one. I just thought that sounded cooler."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Try not to be cool; you'll hurt yourself," she said sassily.

Angela giggled as Bobby offered his hand for the little girl to take. "You should see the haul this year," he told her. "You must have been a really good girl."

Her eyes widened. "Can I go see, Dad?"

"Yeah, yeah. Scram. Skedaddle," Frank encouraged his daughter. As Angela took Bobby's hand and they moved down the corridor, Frank looked at his sister. "Hey, Mrs. Assbutt - " he started to say, but she made an impatient gesture.

"OK, we're not doing that," Gail said sternly. "I'll play along with a lot of things, but you guys are NOT going to start calling us that."

"Are you two arguing already?" Nicole said, smiling broadly at Gail and her brother.

"When did you get here?" Gail asked her friend, moving forward for a hug.

"A minute ago," Nicole replied, embracing Gail. "Gabriel brought me. He's in the living room." Then she hugged Cas.

"Hey, what about me?" Dean said to Nicole, opening his arms.

"Wait your turn," she said pertly, moving to Sam.

"Geez, ever since you found out you're royalty..." Dean groused good-naturedly.

"Yeah? I'll tell you exactly who cares about that," Nicole said, giving Dean a hug and a kiss. "Nobody, that's who. Let's go have some coffee and breakfast, and I'll tell you what's been happening back in Canada."

NICOLE - Sentimental Lady

When they had left Siberia after the shocking scene at Anthony's cottage, Nicole had asked to be taken to Ottawa, instead of Vancouver. She'd wanted to talk to Al as soon as possible, to find out how the injured men on his crew were doing. She'd felt awful about what Valentina had confessed to doing to those workers. Her friends had assured Nicole that she couldn't be blamed for any of it, and she'd realized that, of course. But still, she felt responsible, somehow.

Dean had offered to go with his girlfriend, but she'd told him it wasn't necessary. Besides, her vacation was almost over, and she was needed back on the set. Richard had been very generous in allowing her to take time off, but she still had to work for a living.

After Nicole had spoken to Al and assured him that she would make sure his men were compensated for their pain and suffering, she'd told him that she was calling a halt to the renovations. Her heart was no longer in it. Come the New Year, she would most likely put the house on the market.

But before she left Ottawa to go back home, Nicole had one more stop that she had to make. She took a cab from the hospital where she'd been to visit the injured men, and she'd gone to the house, and let herself in. She stood in the middle of the living room area, looking around at the abandoned work site.

"Tatiana? Victoria? Are you here?" Nicole called out, feeling a little foolish. But she had to do this. She had to try to get some closure on this whole thing. She called out again. No response. Now she was starting to feel frustrated, too. Had they also moved on?

Finally, the spirits of the two women appeared before her. "Yes, my Doushenka, we are here," the ghost accompanying Victoria said softly.

Tears sprang to Nicole's eyes. When both of these women had appeared to her and her friends before, they had both looked the same age as they'd been in their youth, during the Romanov years. What would arguably be considered the prime of life. But Victoria had not survived, and even though Tatiana had, she had been haunted by the massacre for the rest of her days, forced to live her life under an assumed identity. Nicole didn't care that much about the royal aspect if it, although admittedly, that was kind of cool. She just would have liked to have known more about her family history and her heritage, growing up.

Nicole felt a sad tug of affection now, when she looked at her grandmother's ghost. Tatiana had appeared to her as an older woman this time, the way she had looked when she had made Russian pastries for her granddaughter, and tucked her into bed every night with a kiss on the forehead. Calling her "Doushenka", which was an old-fashioned term of endearment. Roughly translated, it meant "little soul". Nicole hadn't thought about that in years. Now, she also remembered that she used to ask her grandmother to read fairy tales to her at night, stories with Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses. But her Grandma would always refuse, telling little Nicole that those kinds of stories were detrimental to young ladies. Nicole had been amused at the time, thinking that her grandmother was just into womens' rights, or something. But now she realized there was much more to it than that. It would have been like salt in the wounds for Tatiana Romanov to read fairy tales about Royals who lived happily ever after. Hers sure hadn't, had they? There were no such things as happy endings for people like them.

"I'm sorry," Nicole blurted out. "I'm sorry such a horrible thing happened to you and your family. OUR family," she amended.

"Don't be, Nicole," her grandmother responded. "You had no knowledge of the tragedy, and I'm glad you never found out about it, when you were a child. That's an extremely difficult thing to live with, at any age. But I'm very proud of the way you have turned out, and I'm happy to see the kind of company you keep. I think I'm finally ready to move on, now."

"As am I," Victoria added. "Valentina has already gone on, so she is no longer holding me here." She looked at Nicole, her expression forlorn. "I'm very sorry, Nicole. Neither I nor Tatiana had the power to stop those terrible things Valentina was doing. I tried to talk to her about it, but she would not be dissuaded. And now, her soul has been condemned for eternity."

"How do you know about Valentina?" Nicole asked Victoria curiously.

"She was my sister," the ghost said with a frown. "I should have known what she was doing. I should have seen what she had become. I'm very sorry for all your trouble." She looked at Nicole's grandmother. "I'll see you in a moment, Tanushka."

Victoria faded away, and Tatiana's ghost glided closer to Nicole. "She just wanted to give us another moment alone," she told her granddaughter. "I wanted to say one more thing, before I'm reunited with your grandfather. Well, hopefully I will be, anyway. Those kinds of things aren't up to us. I just wanted to tell you that I know you've been melancholy lately, looking for some purpose to your life. And I also sense that you feel bitter at the apparent unfairness of it all. Am I right?"

Nicole was astonished. "Yes, Babulya," she answered quietly, using the special word she'd always called her Grandma as a little girl. "How did you know?"

"Because I know YOU. That's how I know," her grandmother said. "You were always the sentimental one. The one who felt things the most. My advice to you is to let the past go, and focus only on the present, and the future. That's what I tried to do, and despite what you may think, I was happy, most of the time. But Valentina was unable to let the past be the past, and you see how miserable she became. Don't let yourself become unhappy because you are dwelling on things that cannot be changed. The best way to make yourself happy is by making others happy. You have a lot of love to give, Nicole. If you can help someone who is less fortunate than yourself, I think you'll feel much better about your own life."

Nicole felt a soft touch on her forehead, like the gentle kiss that her grandmother used to give her before tucking her in for the night. "I love you, Doushenska. Have a good life," the ghost said softly. And then, Tatiana Romanov was gone.

Dean's girlfriend was knuckling the tears out of her eyes when she told them the story. She knew that her friends would understand. "So I've decided that, in the New Year, I'm going to volunteer as a Big Sister," she announced. "When the show's not filming, I'm going to get them to assign an at-risk girl to me, who I can hang around with, and mentor."

"That's great," Frank enthused, and she looked at him, waiting for a punchline. But in this case, there was none. "What?" he said, looking at everyone. "I can be serious, you know."

"Yeah? Like when?" Dean teased Gail's brother.

"Like now," Frank said insistently. "I think a lot more people should do stuff like that. Sometimes, the way you interact with somebody could change their entire life, for the better. Look at Rob, for instance. Who knows how he might have turned out if he hadn't had all of us as role models?"

"Where IS he, anyway?" Gail asked her brother. Then she grinned. "It's not like him to miss a meal. You've been a great role model for him, in that department."

Frank rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore her jibe. "I'll get to that. But first, I want to elaborate on what I was talking about."

FRANK - Check Yourself

Frank had known that the five of them went to Russia, of course. He had been at Nicole's house in Ottawa when those ghosts had shown up at Hallowe'en, telling her she was a Romanov. As far as Frank was concerned, that had been the basis of the whole excursion. Then they'd all come back, telling him that rah-rah-Rasputin was dead, Nicole had visited the Romanov memorial, and they had killed some weird-ass Russian monster on the train. Gail's brother had shaken his head slowly. They always had the most entertaining stories when they came back from those places. He was kind of jealous, truth be told. There he was, being a bureaucrat at City Hall, and there they were, drinking Russian vodka, killing monsters, and meeting mystic historical figures.

Cas had suppressed the fact that he had been looking to discover a way to kill Vincent, mainly because from that aspect, the mission had been an abject failure. He was very aware that Frank had a stake in the matter as Rob's father and Gail's brother, but there was little sense in bringing it up until there was something to discuss, Cas had reasoned.

So Frank was unaware of what had gone on between Cas and Anthony, which meant that they'd thought he didn't know about Rowena being alive. But Bobby had already spilled the beans, when he'd come to visit Frank, Angela and Rob in the group's absence. Bobby'd thought that Frank was going to be angry, but he'd been oddly indifferent. It was funny how not one of them had seemed surprised at the news, though.

Maybe Frank hadn't reacted much because he'd had a couple of other things on his mind at the time. The first thing was his concern over the guy who'd been hanging around the City Hall building for the past month or so.

At first, the cynical side of Gail's brother had taken centre stage. The guy was obviously a crackhead, a ne'er-do-well who shook people down for drug money. But then he'd found himself watching the man. As the weather got colder, the stranger would pull the thin coat he wore tighter around himself, shivering. If he was lucky enough to get a few coins from passers-by, the man would count them meticulously. Then, if he had accumulated enough, he would rush over to the coffee shop. This had intrigued Frank. In his experience, if crackheads panhandled money for crack, they would, well,...buy crack. But unless this guy was waiting for Frank to stop watching him so he could sneak off somewhere else, all he did was get coffe, and then take it back to the alleyway. He would wrap both hands around the cup, slide down the wall, and drink the hot beverage with a look of rapture on his face that reminded Frank of Dean, tucking into a big, juicy cheeseburger. And then, every once in a while, the guy would come out of the coffee place holding a muffin with his coffee, and on those occasions he would look like a little kid at Christmas. He would sit down with the muffin on his lap and unwrap it slowly and lovingly, then eat it a few crumbs at a time, making it last.

Frank hadn't been able to get the guy off his mind. He'd taken to watching him every day, at different times of the day. Nobody punched a clock at City Hall, and as long as he didn't have a council meeting, no one cared if he showed up on time for work, or took a longer lunch break.

It was late November when the weather started to take a turn for the worse, and Frank realized he'd been watching the man for over a month. Nothing ever varied in his routine. Gail's brother had even driven by a few times on the weekend, just to see, and the man had been there, same as always.

"I don't know why I'm so obsessed with the guy," Frank had said to Gail, when she'd come to see him at his office in December. She had established a tradition of coming to see him there to talk about Christmas plans. That way they could discuss gift ideas without the others overhearing. By that time, she'd usually given Cas a number of missions to accomplish, anyway. The two of them loved to make their Christmas arrangements together whenever possible, but that wasn't always practical. Sometimes they had to divide and conquer, Gail teased her husband. Isn't that one of the strategies he would have employed as a General in Heaven's Army? And while references to that period in his existence weren't exactly Castiel's favourite source of humour, he bore those jokes from his wife with good grace most of the time, because he knew that she didn't mean them in a hurtful way. Besides, their separate Christmas missions gave Cas opportunities to brainstorm with some of the others for ideas on what to get for Gail. He puzzled over gift ideas for his wife every single year.

But Gail was the one who was puzzling, now. She had been asking Frank for gift ideas for Angela and Rob, but he was clearly zoning out on her. So she'd asked him what his problem was, and Frank had told her about the man he'd been watching.

"I don't think he is a drug addict," he said to his sister now. "I want to go and talk to him, and I want you to come with me."

"Me?" she said, surprised. "Why?"

"I want you to do that thing you guys do," Frank replied, gesturing with his hand to his forehead. "See what his story is. I have compassion for my fellow man and all that nonsense, but I'm not a sucker, either."

So they had gone down to the street, to see if the man was there. But first, Frank ducked into the coffee nook on his floor and poured coffee into a takeout cup. Then he grabbed a muffin from the basket on the counter, did a double-take, and then grabbed another one.

They found Neil in the alleyway. He was sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the wall, trying to get what little shelter he could from the overhang at the side of the building. It was snowing now, and his clothes were still wet from the night before.

He looked up at the tall man and the short woman who approached him, squinting. Frank extended the coffee cup. "I thought you could use this," he said to the stranger. "Oh, and, here." He took the muffins out of his pockets. "It was Muffin Day on our floor today. Enjoy."

Neil's eyes narrowed. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I know what it's like to be hungry," Frank answered honestly. He gestured to Gail. "This is my sister. There were a lot of times we went hungry when we were kids, because we didn't have much money." As Neil took the coffee and muffins, Frank patted his own stomach. "I know it's kind of hard to tell now, but believe me, I get it. That's why I pushed so hard for those lunch programs for the schools in the city. Next year, I'm gonna make those fat cats vote for free meals for the old folks, too. They just don't know it, yet." He grinned at Gail.

Neil stuffed the muffins into his pockets. "Are you a City Councilman?" he asked Frank.

"Yup," Gail's brother responded proudly.

"Oh. So you're one of the people who keeps calling Security on me, trying to chase me away," Neil said bitterly. "Well, I'm sorry that the mere sight of me offends you guys. But I have nowhere else to go, and no money to get there. If I get enough change to buy a coffee, sometimes the staff in the cafe over there will give me their stale baked goods, before they throw them out. Sometimes not, if you know what I mean." Frank winced at that. He did, actually. He glanced at Gail, who looked startled. They'd better not pull on that thread, Frank thought, with black humour.

"Anyway," Neil continued, "I've found a few relatively dry places to sleep, and I don't cause any trouble. I don't know why you can't just leave me alone."

"Whoa," Frank protested, holding his hands up in supplication. "I've never called Security on you. I just came here to talk to you, for a minute."

"Now, why would a City Councillor want to talk to a homeless bum like me?" Neil said scornfully. "Trying to look like a hero to your constituents? Well, don't bother. You gave me hot coffee, and something to eat. You've done your good deed for the day."

Frank glanced at Gail again. She bent down, reaching out for Neil's forehead. But he shrank back. "What are you doing?"

"You have a smudge on your - " she started to say, but he held up his own hand, blocking hers. "Thanks for the food," he said again. "Now, buzz off and leave me alone."

The brother and sister looked at each other. Well, so much for the two-finger system. But now, Gail was becoming curious, too. Besides, she was running out of time. Cas and the guys were supposed to pick her up here in less than an hour, to run more errands.

So, she made an executive decision. She bent down again and grabbed Neil by the sleeve of his coat with one hand, and Frank's hand with the other. A moment later, they were standing in Frank's office. Gail hadn't had to worry about the security camera, because her brother had disabled his a long time ago, and nobody had ever showed up to look at it.

Before Neil had the chance to react, Gail touched his forehead, modifying his memory.

"Have a seat," Frank invited the man, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Let's talk."

Neil put his coffee on Frank's desk and took his wet coat off slowly, relishing the warmth of being indoors. Meanwhile, Gail grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the surface of Frank's desk and scribbled furiously. Frank read what she'd written, and his face broke into a smile.

"So, how long has it been since you worked in our Accounting Department?" Frank asked the man.

"So as it turns out, the poor guy was just a victim of economics," Frank told the assembled group, accepting the beer that Sam handed him with a nod of acknowledgement. "Which is kind of ironic, when you realize that he's a Certified Accountant. Seven years ago, when our former Mayor wanted to look like he was making a difference, he slashed the budget, like Zorro. They had a massive layoff at City Hall. Neil was one of the casualties. But because he got laid off, he didn't get any severance. And because he was only laid off, they told him to hang in there. That he would probably get called back to work, soon. But he didn't. They forgot about him. Then his wife called him a loser, because the bank foreclosed on his mortgage, and then, she left him. So he had no job, no house, and no wife. And that was when he had his nervous breakdown. But, because we have such a kick-ass health care program - NOT - he had no money to pay a mental health professional. So he'd been hanging out there this whole time, hoping to see somebody from Human Resources who might recognize him, to beg for his job back. But they just assumed he was some scuzzy drug addict, because he had no place to live."

"Wow. That's one of the crappiest things I've ever heard," Barry remarked, shaking his head.

"I know, right?" Frank agreed. "You know, because of our Heavenly connections, sometimes we take those kinds of things for granted. Anyway, once we found out Neil's story, I took him over to Rob and Eric's old apartment. We were still paying the rent on the place because we thought that Rob was gonna move back there. But he told me he doesn't want to. So I told this Neil guy he could stay there for now, and I set him up with Human Resources for an interview, on the Monday. He cleaned up pretty good, and he was the same basic size as Rob, so we lent him Rob's suit for the job interview. It was funny, too. He told us the woman he interviewed with called him a dirty bum a couple of weeks ago, when she saw him on the street. She told him to quit begging, and get a job."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Bobby said, astonished.

Frank was grinning. "You can't make stuff like this up. Anyway, to make a long story short - I know, too late - he got the job! So we put Neil's name on the lease for the apartment, and now, he's got a place to live, and steady employment. But I told him if he wants another wife, he's on his own there."

Frank's friends laughed, and Cas gazed at his brother-in-law with admiration. He'd heard the story already, of course, but that didn't make it any less wonderful to hear it again. Frank noticed the way that Cas was looking at him, and he smirked. "You'd better stop looking at me like that, Cas, or you might be the next one who's looking for another wife," Gail's brother wisecracked.

Gail flashed her husband and brother a smile acknowledging the joke, but she was starting to fret, now. "Where's Rob?" she asked her brother again. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "He'll be here. He texted me and said he's picking up his girlfriend, first."

"His girlfriend?" Carolyn said, surprised. "Since when?"

"Great," Kevin remarked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Now, the kid I babysat is getting a girlfriend, and I still don't have one."

"When did this happen?" Gail said, amazed. "This is the first I'm hearing of it."

"Oh, well, I told him to check with you before he got a girlfriend, but I guess he didn't listen," Frank said sarcastically.

"Okay, well at least we know why he's late, now," Dean said with a grin. "She's got her own place, I hope."

Frank glared at him balefully. "Tread lightly, Winchester. That's my kid you're talking about."

"Uhhh...I hate to tell you this, Frank, but that 'kid' is a fully-grown adult, now," Sam said, nudging Gail's brother.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Frank groused. "But that doesn't mean I wanna think about him doing...you know. That." He took a sip of his beer and then leaned forward in his chair. "Actually, since he's not here yet, maybe I'll bring this up, now. I was going to talk to you guys about it later, anyway." He glanced around to make sure there were no kids within earshot, but they were all playing down in the recreation room in the basement that Bobby had added to the house at Gail's request this year. Now that the kids were getting a bit older, Gail had thought that they would like to have a separate area where they could play games, and music, and make a little noise. And that way, the adults could have a couple of drinks and talk about grownup stuff, as they were doing now.

Seeing no children, Frank went on, "I think we should find out what's going on with this girl. Rob's been seeing a lot of her. And, I do mean, a lot."

"Exactly how much of her is he seeing?" Gabriel joked. "Maybe you should tell her to put her clothes back on."

As they all laughed, Frank shook his head slowly. "OK, OK, I see what you're doing here. Giving me a taste of my own medicine. But seriously, do you know where the two of them met? In the psychiatrist's office. Rob's been seeing Dr. Esmond for grief counselling, and he met Suzanne there, when they were both waiting for their appointments. So now, I'm wondering: what's wrong with her? I was gonna ask you if you could help me check her out. I know you've got those FBI connections..."

Cas held his hand up. "Just a moment, Frank. Isn't that an invasion of this girl's privacy?"

Frank's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, maybe. But what if she's crazy?"

"Rob isn't crazy, is he?" Cas said pointedly. "Yet, he is also seeing a psychiatrist."

Frank was silent for a moment, frowning. Then he looked at Gail. "Tell your husband I want a divorce," he quipped.

"I have an opinion on the subject," Gail told her brother.

"Gee, what a shock," Frank said dryly, as the others exchanged amused looks.

"Check yourself," she said, poking him. "That's my opinion."

"Uhhhh...OK. What does that even MEAN?" Frank said, eyeing his sister dubiously.

"It means, you just told us this beautiful story about Neil, and now you're talking about this girlfriend of Rob's as if she's a raving lunatic," Gail replied. "Have you even met her, yet?"

"No." Frank shook his head. "He told me he wanted to date her for a while, first."

Dean laughed. "Makes sense. He wants to make sure she likes him enough to put up with your bad jokes."

But suddenly, it occurred to Gail: What had Frank said? "Did you say he's picking her up? Like, he's picking her up to bring her HERE? Today?"

"Yeah," Frank confirmed. "He said he didn't think you'd mind."

"I don't, but..." She smacked him on the arm. "Ow!" Frank exclaimed, but Gail let out a frustrated breath. "You should have told me!" she berated him. "We don't have anything for her! How's she going to feel, when the rest of us are all opening presents?"

He shrugged. "I never really thought about it."

"You never really - " Gail started to say, and then she let out a frustrated breath. She looked at Cas. "What are we going to do? There aren't any stores open now!"

"I have an idea," Nicole piped up. "If you and Cas are okay with it, we can just switch out the tag on the present you're giving me. I already know what it is, anyway. Then you can get me another one, after Christmas."

"That's a great idea, and it's very nice of you to make the offer," Gail said, and then she and Nicole began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Dean wanted to know.

Gail was surprised. "You didn't tell him the story?" she asked Nicole, who shrugged. There hadn't really been time, she told her friend.

Gail's smile widened. "Get a load of this," she said to everyone, sipping from her wine glass.

GAIL - Funny You Should Ask

Like Cas and Nicole, Gail had been more than a little affected by their visit to Siberia and what had transpired there. And again, like her husband, she was extremely frustrated by Anthony's failure to give a straight answer to any of Cas's questions. After they'd spent a couple of minutes with the man, she'd had trouble connecting the urbane, though smarmy, Angel to the unkempt individual who had followed her and Frank and Liz around, when they'd been kids. But Anthony had admitted that it had been him. That was just about the ONLY thing he had admitted to. And what had all that stuff about the Prince and the family massacre in Kathmandu been about? Two Royal families wiped out in two different countries, over a century apart. Anthony had seemed to be implying that there was a connection between the cases. What could it possibly be? Did it have something to do with those Codices, the ones Rowena still had? The ones that Anthony, aka "Mop 'N' Glow", had told Gail to burn, when she'd been just a kid? He had babbled on about the truth, and evil, and "Baktiotha", and then he had died. It figured. Since when did they ever get a straight answer about anything, from any one of those guys? Half the time, she couldn't even get a straight answer from her own husband.

Gail wondered who or what "Baktiotha" was. She knew where she'd seen the word before, of course. That was the word that was engraved on the blade that Cas had won at the riverboat poker tournament, the blade that they'd thought would be Gabriel's. Apparently, Gabe's Archangel blade had been recovered by the young man they were calling The Chosen One, whose name was Josiah, or "Joe". That other mystery blade had been the last thing they'd expected to find. She remembered that just being near the blade had given her a funny feeling, one she really couldn't articulate. She and Cas had talked about it later, and Cas had confessed that he'd had very strong feelings about it, as well. Was that the "evil" that Anthony had talked about?

Well, evil was just another Tuesday afternoon in their lives, wasn't it? It was funny how that kind of thing didn't even faze Gail any more. She had no doubt that if there was anything or anyone evil out there that they didn't already know about, he, she, or it would find them in due time. But they had enough on their plates right now.

First, there was Christmas. A couple of weeks before the big day, Nicole had called Cas's cell phone to find out if Gail might be available to go shopping with. Gail had never bothered to get a cell phone of her own, and Nicole knew that the two of them were almost always together, anyway.

Gail had been happy to receive the invitation. She and Nicole had grown closer during their trip to Russia, and now, Gail looked at Nicole as her and Cas's friend, not just Dean's girlfriend.

The women had gone from store to store in the mall, as they checked items off Nicole's list. There were a few people she'd wanted to get something for, such as Bobby and Frank, that Nicole was looking for Gail's input on. Gail had also picked up a few items that had caught her eye.

Now, they found themselves in one of those large electronics stores. Nicole had wanted to have a look at some devices, she'd said, just to see what was available. Technology changed so rapidly these days; there was always an updated model of something-or-other.

"That's why I don't have any of that stuff," Gail said, shaking her head. "Too confusing. Too aggravating! But, you know what? Maybe you can help me pick something out for Frank. He's been wanting to upgrade his cell phone for a while. Or, maybe we could get him one of those Tablet thingies. I wonder if he wants a new laptop?" she mused.

"I saw a sign when we first came into the store that they're running a clearance sale on laptops right now," Nicole said. "Do you know what kinds of programs he uses?"

Then her friend went on to talk about storage space and capacity, and Gail's eyes glazed over. The Angel thought about those old TV shows, the ones that had Charlie Brown sitting in a classroom and his teacher talking in that voice that sounded like a muted trombone. That was how Nicole sounded to Gail, now: "Blah blah kilo-bytes, mega-terra-grams, blah, blah, blah". After a minute or so of that, Gail held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, but I'm totally lost," she admitted. "I have no idea what you just said. The only mega-bites I know about are the ones that Dean takes, when he's eating."

The two of them laughed, and then Nicole stopped by a display of hand-held tablet-like devices. "Ooooh, these are nice," she said admiringly.

A staff member happened to be walking by, and she paused now. "They're the latest model," the clerk told the women. "And you're in luck; we have a deal on, right now. If you buy the device, you can get the case for half price."

"Sold," Nicole said with a smile. "I'll take two."

Gail smirked. "I hope you're not getting one of those for Bobby. He keeps telling us a computer is as far as he's willing to go."

Nicole shook her head. "No, I'm getting one for me, and one for you."

Gail was startled. "For ME? What do you mean, for me?"

"Just what I said," Dean's girlfriend replied. "I just wanted to do something to thank you for being such a good friend to me. It's been ages since I've had a girlfriend that I can laugh with, and confide in. Like I said before, I would never presume to try to take Liz's place in your life, but I hope that in some small way, I can help make up for Liz being gone, and would you please accept my gift, so we can keep in touch, wherever we might happen to be?" Nicole caught her breath, and her face broke into a smile. "Wow. That was the world's longest sentence, wasn't it?"

Gail stared at her friend for a moment. Suddenly, the Angel's eyes welled up with tears. What a lovely, wonderful, sweet gesture on Nicole's part. Gail was speechless.

"What do you say?" Nicole continued. "You can send me messages from Heaven, can't you? Wouldn't THAT be cool? How about from Mars? Or Minsk, unless you've had enough of bone-chilling temperatures for a while?"

Gail sniffled. "Of course I'll keep in touch with you!" she said. "But you know I can't accept this. It's way too expensive. You're the one who works for a living, not me. In fact, why don't I buy them? You know that Cas and I have a pretty healthy savings account, and I also know that you took a bath on that house in Ottawa. There. It's settled. Gimme those. I'm buying them."

Now it was Nicole's turn to be touched by what her friend was saying. "But, I wanted to do something for YOU."

"You already have," Gail said sincerely. "I didn't really realize how much I've missed having a girlfriend to commiserate with, and to giggle with." She lowered her voice. "And, to complain about our guys with. Although, let's face it: you have way more matierial than me, in that department."

As Nicole laughed, Gail handed her a couple of the devices. "Can you hold these for a sec? I'll pick out a couple of cases for them," she said to her Canadian friend. "What colour do you want?"

But as Gail reached for one of the boxes on the shelf to examine the case within, her purse slid off her shoulder and down her arm, dropping on the floor.

"Crap!" she exclaimed. She wasn't used to carrying a purse around. When she and Cas went somewhere on Earth that required money, he always paid.

Gail went down to her knee to pick up her purse, and the clerk they'd seen earlier whispered to a co-worker, "Look! I think they're getting engaged!"

Nicole hadn't heard, because the store employees were trying to be discreet. But Gail's celestial hearing had kicked in, and she started to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Nicole asked her friend, puzzled. Gail told her, and the two of them started to giggle. They were still laughing when they exited the store.

"I could certainly do a lot worse," Nicole quipped now.

"Right back at'cha," Gail said, grinning. Then, she looked at her brother. "Well? What do you have to say? Let the jokes commence."

Frank let out a frustrated breath. "I've got nothing," he lamented.

"Get outta here," Dean said, his mouth dropping open with amazement.

"I don't believe that for a minute," Barry said good-naturedly, taking a sip of wine. "Even I have about a dozen wildly inappropriate jokes running through my head, right now."

"Wait until we get a drink, and then let's hear them," Rob said, entering the living room area.

They all looked up, smiling at the young man. He was accompanied by a girl who looked to be about the same age as him, and as Gail rose to greet the new arrivals, she noticed that they were holding hands.

"Everybody, this is Suzanne," Rob said, introducing his companion. "Suze, this is everybody. We'll do individual intros later on, but first, I want to hear what's new with all of you."

Gail and Cas walked over to where the young couple stood. "Merry Christmas, and welcome to our home," Cas said, extending his hand.

Suzanne took it. She looked at him, wide-eyed. For an instant, Cas was reminded of the way Gail looked when she was feeling timid. He smiled. "Do you prefer to be called Suzanne?"

Rob's girlfriend returned the Angels's smile. She gave his hand a brief shake. "It doesn't matter," she said shyly. "You can call me Sue, or Suzy, if you want."

"But I'm the only one who gets to call her 'Suze'," Rob said with a wide grin.

"Give Cas your coats, and I'll get you both a drink," Gail said to the young people.

"It's OK, I can do it. I know where everything is," Rob offered, giving Gail a hug. "But, first..." he took Suzanne's hand again, leading her over to Frank. "This is my Dad."

"Frank." He rose and stuck out his hand. "It's good to meet you."

"I'll be right back with those drinks," Rob said. He shrugged his coat off and handed it to Cas, then turned around to go to the dining room, where he knew the bar would be set up.

"Frank, could you introduce Suzanne to everybody?" Gail asked her brother. "I have something I need to do in the other room, for a minute."

"Yeah, sure," he said, as Gail strode out of the room.

"Are you nuts?!" she exclaimed, startling Rob.

ROB - Love Is The Cure

A couple of weeks after he'd been hypnotized by Dr. Esmond for the first time, Rob had been having trouble sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Alice, shooting Eric. So he would get out of bed and pad down the hall to the kitchen, getting a beer and a snack. His Dad and Angela would be in bed, of course, and Rob was careful to be quiet.

Then he would sit down at the table, running his hands through his hair, and the questions would start: Why would a woman shoot her own son? Was Alice really that hell-bent on getting rid of Vincent? Why? Granted, he was a crazy, child-killing bastard, but still...And, she'd tried to shoot Rob, too. Rob's session with Dr. Esmond had revealed that she seemed to be after Vincent's other kids, as well. Did that mean she was going to come after Rob, at some point? What about Gail? She was an Angel, but she was also Vincent's daughter.

And then, the guilt would start: What could Rob have done differently, to protect Eric from Alice? What SHOULD he have done? Had there been any clue, anything at all, that he'd missed at Alice's house?

Finally, when Rob couldn't stand it any more, he'd called Dr. Esmond's office to make another appointment. But this time, he didn't say anything to his Dad about it. He didn't say anything to anyone. They'd all been dealing with their own stuff, this past year. Rob needed to man up, and take care of his own self.

He had met Suzanne in the doctor's waiting room when he'd gone for his first appointment alone. The receptionist said Dr. Esmond was stuck in a traffic jam, and he was going to be late. They could either reschedule and leave, or they could wait.

Suzanne said she didn't mind waiting. She had a good book in her purse, and she'd cleared her schedule. Then Rob said he could wait, too. Suzanne was really cute, and she had smiled at him when he'd first come in the door.

After an awkward couple of minutes of waiting in silence, Rob had asked her about the book she was reading. The young woman had laughed, telling him it was a thriller about a computer hacker who was being chased by the mob. Not exactly classic literature. But it was a way to pass the time. Then Rob had found himself telling her that he loved thrillers. In fact, he used to write quite a few of them himself, when he was a young teenager. He hadn't really written anything in a while, but the supernatural was kind of a hobby of his, Rob had told her, smiling to himself.

And then, as the old saying goes, one thing had led to another, and the two of them had started seeing each other. Then they had started to see more of each other, and soon, Rob had realized something: he was head over heels in love with the girl. He'd told Suzanne that he loved her after their first time, and she had smiled wryly.

"You don't have to say that, Rob," the young woman had said, but he was shaking his head. He knew he didn't HAVE to; he just did. He loved her.

Suzanne had stared at him with a curious look on her face, but she had said nothing in return. That was OK, he'd told himself. They'd only known each other a short time. But he hadn't been able to hide the way he felt. He loved everything about her. Just like his Dad had felt about his Mom. Just like Uncle Cas and Aunt Gail felt about each other.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? How the hell was Rob supposed to tell Suzanne that he was a psychic monster-hunter, whose grandfather was God? They hadn't really talked much about the reasons that each of them were seeing Dr. Esmond. Rob had said that he was getting grief counselling over the deaths of his Mom and brother. That was the truth; just not all of it. And Suzanne had told him that she was receiving stress counselling due to some major changes in her life recently.

Which was the truth; just not all of it. Suzanne had a secret of her own to divulge, and as she sat there shyly being introduced to Rob's family, she'd begun to think that she would probably need to tell him soon. She loved Rob too, but Suzanne had been a lot more reticent to tell him so. When you were a young woman who had suddenly been placed in the position she had been put in, you had to be very careful about strangers coming into your life. But Suzanne couldn't help it: she did feel love for Rob. He was cute and considerate, and he made her laugh. He had an interesting combination of different traits, just like a calico cat had different markings. On the one hand, Rob was into all the latest technology, and he listened to all the current hits on the Top 30. But then, on the other hand, he had a bit of an old-school streak, as well. He preferred reading actual books to looking at screens, for instance, and so did Suzanne. That was one of the things that had endeared him to her, right off the bat. And when they went out to a restaurant or a bar, he pulled her chair out for her to sit in, and then he stood up, if she got up to go to the bathroom. It had freaked her out when he had done that, at first. Why was he doing that? It was called "having manners", Rob had said. He also opened doors for her, just like the men did in the old black and white movies, the ones where the men all wore suits, and hats.

So by the time Christmas had rolled around, Suzanne was pretty much convinced that she loved Rob, too. But she'd never met any of his family, not even his Dad. She knew he was close to them all, because Rob talked about them constantly. His Dad, his sister Angela, his Gramps, his Aunts and Uncles...he had about a million of them, it sounded like. Suzanne had no family; it was just her, now. She had grown up in the foster care system for the vast majority of her life. So she and Rob sort of had that in common, too. He had told her about the fact that Frank and Jody had taken him in when his first Mom had died, figuring he would save the more shocking revelations for later, if she didn't decide to bail on him when she'd started to find out more about him.

As Suzanne was making everyone's acquaintance, Gail was berating Rob.  
"What the hell were you thinking?" she said, smacking him on the arm.

"Why? What do you mean?" Rob asked her, rubbing the place where she'd hit him.

She let out a frustrated breath. "OK; number one, how can you bring a girlfriend here for Christmas without telling me? Luckily, we figured out a present for her when your Dad told us she was coming, but would it have killed you to pick up a phone? You could at least have texted your Uncle Cas!"

There was a moment's silence, and then Gail started to laugh. "Oh, my God. I sound like a grandmother, or something! 'Would it kill you to pick up a phone'? Since when do I talk like that?"

Rob laughed now, too. "Well, now that you mention it...But you're right, Aunt Gail. I should have told you. Actually, it was kind of a last-minute invitation. I didn't even know if she'd agree to come."

"She's only meeting God, a host of Angels, and your Dad, that's all. Nothing intimidating about that," Gail said sarcastically. "How much does she know?"

"Uhhhh...nothing about what you just said," Rob said nervously.

"Oh, great. Well, we'd better get back out there, then, before your Uncle Gabriel decides to snap his fingers, and upgrade the Christmas tree. Hopefully, Sam and Dean won't mention their recent outing to Montana. If she doesn't know we're Angels, I'm pretty sure she shouldn't hear about the scary monsters with the big teeth that your Uncles killed, there."

Rob made a face. "How am I gonna tell her about all that? She's going to think I'm a psycho!"

"Well, you did meet her in a psychiatrist's office," Gail quipped. She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll think of something. Now, whip up those drinks. I'd better get out there and make sure everybody's behaving themselves."

"Thanks, Aunt Gail," Rob said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Rob," she responded. "Oh, and conngratulations. She's cute."

Rob smiled widely as she left the dining room. His Aunt was pretty cool. He probably should have thought to give Gail and Cas a heads-up that he was bringing Suzanne. But this whole thing was a new experience for him. He'd never felt this way about a girl before. Gail was right, though. He'd better get out there too, and make sure Suzanne wasn't freaked out.

SAM - About A Boy

Sam was happy that Rob had found a girl he liked well enough to bring her to the family Christmas celebration. She seemed nice, if maybe a little intimidated by meeting so many people all at once. But everybody was going the extra mile to make her feel welcome and included, and Gail had made sure to discreetly pass the word that Suzanne wasn't in the loop as far as the whole monsters-and-Angels thing went.

But Sam was preoccupied now. He had been, ever since they had gotten back from Russia. Becky and Brian were gone. She had sent Sam an e-mail, telling him that she had taken the baby to visit some family members. She would call him when she got back. And that was it. No further explanation. Sam had no clue who those relatives of hers might be, where they lived, or when he could expect them to return. He wondered if other guys in his situation had the same kind of dilemma. What were his rights as the baby's father, exactly? Or, did he even HAVE any? It wasn't as if he and Becky were a couple, and honestly, Sam had really not had much to do with Brian's care. There was nothing wrong with Becky taking Brian to see relatives. Frankly, Sam had been glad that Becky had some family that she could spend some time with. The last time he had seen her, she'd looked a little frazzled. Sam guessed he had it real easy, compared to her. He went on the road with Dean any time he pleased, and he'd just been on the Trans-Siberian Express, drinking champagne and sleeping with a Russian celebrity. And what had Becky been doing? Wiping spit-up, changing dirty diapers and talking to the walls, he supposed. Sam had made a vow to himself that he would make a concerted effort to be a more hands-on parent, going forward. As Brian was growing up, Sam didn't want his son to have no idea who his Dad was. Sam was a grown man, and he had been one for many years now. But he himself had had father issues all his life, and he meant to see that the cycle didn't repeat itself.

They'd gotten back from Russia over a month ago, and Sam still hadn't heard from Becky. He had swung by the house, but she hadn't answered his knocks at the door, and the premises had been quiet. Now, he was thinking that maybe she'd decided to spend the Christmas holidays with her family. It was a shame, really, because Sam had been planning to appeal to Gail and Cas to have Becky and Brian over to their house for Christmas this year. Well, maybe more so Gail, than Cas. Sam hadn't forgotten how contentious things had gotten when Becky had stood up at their table Christmas night, and made the shocking announcement that she was expecting Sam's child. But Sam had been preparing a set of remarks, just as they had taught him back in Pre-Law, that he'd hoped would persuade Gail to relent and let Becky back into their house.

It was a moot point now, though, and maybe it was just as well. They would have a nice, peaceful Christmas here, and then after the holidays, Sam would concentrate on mending some fences, and being more of a father to his son. He was looking forward to the time when Brian would be old enough to interact with everyone. Right now, it felt like that would take forever. But in reality, it would go by in the blink of an eye. Sam remembered back when Angela was born. In a lot of ways, that day seemed like it had only been a year or two ago. But here was Angela now, running up the stairs from the basement, giggling. Frank and Jody's daughter was a little lady now, excelling in school and charming all her teachers, according to her father.

"Dad!" Angela exclaimed, running toward Frank. "The space aliens have landed!"

Frank smirked. "I know, believe me. I work at City Hall," he wisecracked.

Peter came running after his "cousin" as Rob grabbed his sister, cuddling her to him. "I'll protect you against those rotten aliens," he told Angela.

"Blork!" Peter exclaimed, pointing his finger at Rob.

"Say what, now?" Rob said, bemused.

"I shot you with my space laser," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Rob said, nodding. "Am I supposed to fall down, now?"

"Yeah," George said, grinning.

"Too bad you missed me, then!" Rob said gleefully. He handed Angela off to Frank. "Here; hold this for a minute," he quipped to his father. Then he leaped off his chair, and lunged for Peter and George. The boys took off, running through the living room and laughing.

As Ilene came to the table and sat on Barry's lap, Angela was staring at Suzanne. "Who are you?" she asked the young woman with a child's candour.

Suzanne smiled. "I'm Rob's girlfriend, Suzy. You must be Angela. He talks about you, a lot."

"He talks about you too, all the time," Angela said pertly.

The two boys came running back to the group, with Rob hot on their heels. Angela squirmed in Frank's arms. "Dink!" she exclaimed, waving her hand in their direction. The boys froze, but Rob kept on moving. Ilene giggled. "You're supposed to stop, Uncle Rob," Barry's daughter admonished him.

"Sorry," Rob said, flopping back into his chair. "I don't speak...whatever that is."

"It's Venutian," Peter said, grabbing a cookie from one of the side tables. "Only aliens can understand it."

The adults all exchanged smiles. "Ohhh," Bobby said, nodding. "Well, carry on, then. Don't mind us Earthlings."

"Daddy, can we have a pop?" Ilene asked Barry, and Suzanne's smile widened. "Is that some more space language?" Rob's girlfriend asked the child.

"Nahhh, that's Canadian for soda," Dean said, leaning back in his chair. He gave Nicole's leg a brief squeeze. "I've had to take a crash course in 'Canuck-speak'. Those kids aren't the only ones being invaded by aliens."

"Aaaah, quit talking out of Uranus," Gabriel piped up. Gail burst out laughing, but Karen and Carolyn looked at him sharply. "What? That's a planet," Gabe said innocently.

"I'll get you all something to drink," Frank said to the kids, getting up from his chair. "Come on, space aliens." The children trooped behind him as he moved in the direction of the kitchen. When Frank got to where Gabriel was sitting, he looked down at the Archangel. "As the father of an impressionable young child, it's my job to tell you that what you said was inappropriate," Gail's brother told Gabe. Then he leaned down, lowering his voice. "But, be prepared for the highest of high-fives, once the kids are back in the basement."

Gabriel smirked as Frank left the room. He leaned back in his chair, looking at Gail. "Your brother's all right, Kitten."

A moment later, when the kids were out of earshot, Gail laughed again. "What you said reminded me of our recent foray into the weird world of fan fiction," she said to Gabriel. "How about if we share that story with the grownups, once the kids are back in the basement?"

"Is the story really inappropriate?" Carolyn inquired.

"You've MET Gabriel, right?" Gail said, her lips twitching.

Frank and the kids trooped out from the kitchen. "OK, get lost, you rug rats," he said to them. "Go. Run around downstairs, some more. Tire yourselves out, so you can sleep tonight. But if you see Darth Vader, come get me. He and I have a score to settle."

"Dad, you're so weird," Angela remarked happily, sipping at her soda.

"Says the kid who thinks waving her hand is gonna stop a Venutian death ray," Frank said scornfully. "Now, scram."

As the kids descended the stairs, sounding like a herd of miniature elephants, Frank returned to the table with a fresh beer in his hand. "So, I heard there's an inappropriate story in the offing. Let's have it, then."

"What? You're not gonna send me out of the room, first?" Rob joked. "Wow. I guess I've officially been promoted to adulthood, now."

"I just figured the sooner Suzanne finds out how strange we all are, the better," his father said affably.

"Strange is a very relevant term, in this instance," Gabriel said with a grin. "Let me introduce you all to the scary-ass world of fan fiction."

GABRIEL - Bedtime Stories

Gabe had been looking forward to cutting loose a little with his family and friends at Christmastime. Well, as loose as he could cut with a bunch of humans, some young kids, and no female companionship, anyway.

He'd been thinking about the latter subject when Gail had spotted him a little while back, in Heaven. The Archangel had been spending the vast majority of his time before Christmas trying to take care of business. Ever since he'd received the celestial equivalent of a Storm Watch Alert on the sudden aging of the Beast of the Apocalypse, Gabriel had been nose to the grindstone. He had popped out of Bobby's office that day, determined to find the Chosen One. So Gabe had winked himself down to Earth and stood there in the middle of an open field, sending out the feelers for his blade. He had picked up a signal, so he had followed it all the way to the trailer park where Joe had been living. But then, it had trailed off into nothing. The Chosen One had hit the bricks, taking Gabe's blade with him. Whoever had once decided how these things worked had apparently decided that the kid was the blade's owner at the moment. So that had been that, and since Gabriel's connection was temporarily severed, he was back to square one.

So he'd taken to hanging out in Heaven's library after that, hitting the books again, feeling like a failure. Cas and Gail and the Flannel Twins were out there taking care of business, and here he was, nose-deep in dusty old tomes. Dry prose, written by humourless, sexless Angels who wouldn't know what a good time was if it smacked them right in the face.

What had become of him? Gabriel lamented to himself as he leafed through yet another yellow-paged pile of dogma. Just because Liz had died, did that mean that Gabriel and his sex drive were supposed to have died, too? But as soon as he'd had that thought, Gabe had felt like the lowest scumbag in the world. How could he even be thinking about cheating on Liz that way? If Gail knew what he was thinking about right now, she would rip a strip right off of him. She would -

"Hi, Gabriel," Gail said, touching him on the shoulder.

The Archangel jumped halfway out of his seat, startling Gail, who let out a little squeak. Reflexively, she glanced at the front desk area, where Chuck should have been. He wasn't any longer, of course. Nor was anyone else, half of the time. She supposed it didn't really matter, anyway. Heaven's library was open to all now, all day, every day. Gail guessed that was for the best, but it made her feel more than a little sad, nonetheless. Every time she turned around, it seemed, she was being reminded of a family member that they had lost. When their group had gotten back from Russia and she and Cas had had a couple of days to decompress, Gail had started the Christmas planning early. After the year they'd all just had, she had needed to focus on something fun, and festive. But when she'd called Barry for gift ideas for the kids, she had come very close to asking him how Tommy was doing. She had stopped herself in time, but just barely.

Gabe and Gail stared at each other for a moment, and then they laughed softly.

"Wow," Gail said, plunking herself down in the chair next to him. She reached for the book he'd been perusing. "What's this? The Dead Sea Scrolls?" she quipped. A puff of dust emerged from the pages and she waved her hand in front of her face, coughing.

Gabriel laughed again. What a breath of fresh air she was. "Yeah, pretty much," he said, nodding. He glanced around. "Where's Cas? Or have you finally come to your senses and decided to take the upgrade?"

She smiled, shaking her head. Gail was used to this kind of talk from him by now. "He's at the bunker," she told her Archangel Brother. "He said he wants to check out the library there, but what he's really doing is picking their brains for gift ideas for me, for Christmas."

"How do you know that?" he asked her.

"Oh, believe me, I know," she assured him. "I wasn't married yesterday, you know. It's the same thing, every year. So I told him I'd come up here and do some research, so he wouldn't have to come up with some kind of an elaborate story to try to get rid of me. You know how bad he is at that."

Gabriel smiled. "Yeah, I know." Then he sighed. "What I DON'T know is how many more musty old books I can look at. There's nothing on the Beast in those things. Well, nothing we don't already know, anyway. The only thing we got blindsided by is the apparent fact that your dear old dad found a way to age the little bastard. We're just lucky he stopped at nine years."

Gail chuffed out a laugh. "You think that was luck? I'd be willing to bet he did that on purpose, just to screw around with us."

Gabe nodded. Actually, she was probably right. He wiggled his finger, and the dusty old book closed itself. "Well, since your husband wants to get rid of you for a while...what do you say?"

Her lips twitched. "What do I say about what?"

"Buy me a drink, and let's chat," he replied.

Gail shrugged. Why not? She sent a quick message to Cas, letting him know who she was with, and where they were going to be. Then, they winked out.

A short while later, the two of them were sitting on the couch at Gail and Cas's house on Earth. They'd gone through one bottle of wine already, and Gabe had snapped his fingers and made another couple of bottles appear on the coffee table in front of them. Gail had smiled slyly and said that he was making a strong case for her to consider that upgrade, and Gabe had laughed again. He realized how much he had missed laughter. Things had been so grim for so long, especially since Liz's murder.

Gabriel told Gail this now, and her smile faded. He was very right about that. But then, her expression had brightened. "I have just what the doctor ordered," Gail told him. "Hang on." She reached for the laptop computer that was sitting on the end table beside her. "Wait until you see this."

He waited patiently as she turned on the computer and signed in. "Remember when I told you about those fan fiction websites?" Gail asked the Archangel. "You need to see some of the stuff on this one."

Gabriel was surprised. "What are you doing, looking at that stuff? Didn't we decide it was stupid?"

Gail nodded, pulling up the website she'd wanted to show him. "A fair amount of it is," she agreed. "Like what I'm about to show you. But, you know what? Every now and then, you come across some real gems. There are some authors out there who tell really good stories. But that's not what we're after, not right now. What I need you to see is all the weird combinations and permutations of people having sex. And I emphasize perMUTATIONS. Some of us aren't even people, in some of these stories!"

"What?!" Gabe exclaimed, his forehead wrinkling. "What are you talking about?"

"Look," she said, moving closer to him so they could both look at the laptop's screen. "See that button? Use it to scroll up and down. Read the tags on some of those stories."

"Tags?" Gabe echoed blankly.

"Yeah. They're those things that are underlined. First comes your relationships - " She pointed, as Gabriel peered closer.

"Oh," he commented mildly. "Castiel and Gail. That's nice."

Gail's lips twitched furiously. "Just wait." She pointed again. "Now, you've got your tags, which describe certain...ummm...things that exist in the story. Some of it is pretty standard stuff: action/adventure, romance, family bonding - "

"OK, OK, I got it," Gabriel said, nodding.

"You think you do, but you don't," she retorted. "Keep scrolling."

"Sexual tension," he read aloud. "Oooh, now we're getting to the good stuff. Does this story have a...happy ending? Huh? Huh? See what I did there?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "OK, Smart Guy, keep going. We'll see how many jokes you'll be making in a minute."

He kept reading: "Boys kissing, phone sex, gay Angels, oral - " His eyes widened in horror. He mouthed a few more words soundlessly, and then he looked up at Gail. "You've gotta be kidding me with this! What's wrong with these people?!" he exclaimed.

Gail grinned mischeviously. "What, you don't think there are any gay Angels?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I always wondered about Balthazar," Gabe wisecracked. He gestured at the laptop. "But, this? It's more than ridiculous."

"Oh, but you haven't seen anything, yet," she said gleefully. "Keep scrolling. I dare you."

"I'm kind of afraid to," he said, but he was doing it anyway. Then he stopped, squinting at the screen. "What's Alpha/Omega?"

"You're wolves," Gail responded, grinning. "Well, usually. Sometimes you're mer-men, or have tentacles. You've heard of Destiel, right? Well, in case you're feeling left out, there's also a category called 'Sabriel'. Bet you can't guess what that is." Gabriel's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "It's you and Sam!" she went on, poking him.

"Sam? Sam Winchester? Get outta here!" he exclaimed. "He's way too tall for me!"

"Oh, so that's your only objection? That he's too tall?" Gail teased Gabriel. "Well, in that case, we can fix you up with Dean, and I'll take my husband back."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Geez, Louise." He continued to scroll down. "'Halo kink'? I'm not sure I even wanna know." He paused again. "'Angel-sized equipment'? OK, finally, something that's true! But, look who I'm talking to. I guess I don't have to tell YOU."

"What can I say? I have no complaints in that department," she said, grinning. "Absolutely none."

Now Gabe was grinning, too. "Are you SURE you don't want to consider that upgrade?" He gestured to himself. "Archangel."

Gail raised an eyebrow to him, and then the two of them burst out laughing. They laughed until tears sprang to their eyes, and then they laughed some more.

Eventually, their laughter subsided, and when it did, Gabriel looked at her and said, "Sometimes I miss Liz so much it feels like somebody ripped open my chest and squashed my heart with both hands, just like a ripe tomato. And then other times, I just want to get out there, and take a big bite out of life. Do you know what I mean?"

Gail sighed. She thought she did. "Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me you want to find a woman and..." She trailed off, at a loss for words. Then she pointed to the laptop screen. "...do some of this stuff, here?"

Gabriel's lips twitched briefly. "Yeah, in a manner of speaking." Then, his expression grew serious. "Would you be upset with me if I did?"

She thought about that for a moment. Would she? "Yes. A little," she answered honestly. "But you know what, Gabriel? It's none of my damn business. Liz is gone, and it's your life, not mine. Well...you know what I mean."

Gabe reached out and took her hand in his. "Thanks for understanding me, Kitten." Then he tried a smile on for size. "Hey, I can't wait for you forever, you know."

Cas popped into the living room at that moment, and he stood there, looking at them. "So, I leave the two of you alone, and now I find you holding hands with my wife?" he said to Gabriel.

The Archangel smirked, but he let go of Gail's hand, nonetheless. "Try as I might, she seems to prefer you, for some inexplicable reason," Gabriel said to Cas, shifting the laptop to the side and getting to his feet.

"And I mean to see to it that she always does," Cas said in an even tone. But Gail could see the glint of amusement in his eyes, now. She rose from the couch too, approaching her husband. He put his arm around her waist.

"Well, I'll get going," Gabriel said to the couple. "No, no. Don't insist that I stay. Really."

Now Cas and Gail had their arms around each other, and they were kissing, ignoring him completely.

"I suppose I could stay for one more drink," Gabe wisecracked.

"Do you hear anyone speaking?" Cas asked his wife.

"Nope," Gail said pertly.

"Okay, okay. I'll get going, before you guys start doing..." Gabriel gestured to the laptop "...any one of those things I was just looking at."

Gail laughed. "We'll see you later," she said to the Archangel. "Thanks for the laughs, and for the company."

"No, thank YOU, my Kitten," he said, but it was with a serious expression. "Thank you." Then Gabe looked at Cas. "If I ever hear that you're taking her for granted, I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

"I never will, Gabriel," Cas responded.

Gabe vanished without another word, and Cas gave Gail a squeeze, nodding in the direction of the laptop. "Were you showing him that website that you find so amusing?"

She smiled thinly. "He needed a good laugh. While we were off gallivanting in Russia on an exotic train trip, he was nose-deep in ancient texts in Heaven, in the universe's most boring reference section. And he misses Liz, but he also feels guilty about the fact that he wants to start dating, again."

Cas's heart sank a bit, but he had known his Brother much, much longer than his wife had. Therefore, it came as no surprise to Cas that Gabriel wanted to resume the art of romance. He was impressed that the Archangel had had the sensitivity to talk to Gail about it first, though. To Cas, that showed a genuine sense of maturity on Gabriel's part.

"What did you tell him?" Cas asked her softly.

Gail gave him a half-shrug. "What COULD I tell him? I said it was none of my business. It breaks my heart a little, but he's got to do what he's got to do, I guess."

They stood there quietly for a moment. Cas knew that Gail was right about it being none of their business, but he also knew that the idea of Gabriel moving on was painful to his wife, because there was a finality to it that could not be denied.

Cas grabbed her hand and led her over to the couch. "Let's have a look at this," he said in a light-hearted tone of voice. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap with one hand and picking up the laptop with the other. He put the computer on her lap, so they could both look at the screen. Cas nuzzled his wife's face as he scrolled down the screen, scanning the tags attached to the stories.

"Let's see," he mused aloud. "We've already done many of these..." He scrolled down some more, making a face. "And I know that neither of us wants to do THAT."

Gail laughed merrily. She knew what Cas was trying to do now, and she loved him all the more for it. She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll tell you what, sweetie. Why don't we just put that away, and improvise? We've always been pretty good at that."

"Good idea," Cas said. He logged out and flipped the lid closed, then put the laptop back on the end table. "And I know exactly where I'd like to start," he said charmingly, pulling her closer.

BOBBY - God Knows I Try

Cas and Gail were sitting close together and holding hands now, making what their family members called "the googly eyes" at each other. That had been a very romantic night for the two of them. But they weren't sharing any details with their Christmas guests, nor did the subject of Liz come up. This was a time for fun and frivolity.

Once the chuckling and teasing had died down from the stories Gabe and Gail had told all of them about the content of the website, Frank shook his head in wonder. "See, this is what I don't get," he remarked. "You have what's basically a porn site - "

"They're not ALL porn," Gail interjected. "There are some legit stories on there, too."

"Oh, so you guys are just exaggerating, for the sake of humour?" Sam asked them. He had taken the jokes about himself and Gabriel with good humour. This was familiar territory by now, ever since they had discovered that there were different types of fan fiction, divided into what they called "ships". He still didn't get much of that, himself, but it was good for a laugh, anyway.

"Uhhh...not as much as you'd like us to be, Loverpants," Gabriel wisecracked, and Dean nearly spit out his mouthful of beer. "I'm totally gonna make that his new user name, when he goes to sleep tonight," Sam's elder brother snickered.

"Anyway," Frank continued, although he was smirking now, too, "the point I was trying to make is that you've got stuff like that, that any two-year-old with half a brain can access on a computer, and yet you have all these old, classic songs that are being banned. What's up with that?"

"Banned? What do you mean, banned?" Bobby asked Gail's brother, puzzled.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. You're in...you're away on business, a lot," Frank said awkwardly. He'd been about to say that Bobby was in Heaven more than he was on Earth, but he'd edited himself at the last minute. It was the same thing when Gail and Gabriel had been joking about the fan fiction website: for the purposes of this gathering, they had eliminated all specific references to Angels. The subject matter was funny enough, and since Rob had advised that Suzanne didn't know about their status yet, they'd been discreet.

Frank spared a glance in Suzanne's direction, but she hadn't reacted to his near-flub. Bobby had clued in, however, and he played along. "Well, even if I didn't travel so much, I don't really pay attention to the latest trends," Bobby remarked. "What are they banning, and why?"

Gail's brother took a sip of his beer. "They're saying that some of the old Christmas songs are offensive. Like that song where the guy wants the woman to hang around and have another drink, but she's saying she doesn't know if she should. What's wrong with that? Last I looked, that's a pretty normal conversation between a couple who are dating. I mean, what guy doesn't try to persuade the woman to spend the night? But, the final say is up to her. Am I right?"

Nicole nodded vigorously. "Definitely."

"Absolutely," Linda agreed emphatically. "We might make a token protest because we've been taught to 'behave like ladies', but if we're into it, we decide to stay."

"Mom! I'm right here!" Kevin protested.

"There was only one virgin birth recorded in history, but it wasn't yours," she shot back, and they all laughed.

"Yes, and no guy is going to keep us there, if we want to go," Carolyn chimed in. "Not unless he wants some bear spray in his face, or a knee in the crotch." She and Linda high-fived smartly.

"And now, they're saying that Rudolph glorifies bullying, and Frosty should put some pants on," Frank said earnestly.

"You're makin' that up," Bobby accused him.

"No, I'm not," Frank insisted. "Stupid, right?"

"Then doesn't that mean that Donald Duck should put some pants on, too?" Ethan wisecracked.

Bobby was shaking his head slowly. "Ya know what?" he remarked. "Back in my day, we didn't need all this political correctness stuff. Everybody knew right from wrong, and that was pretty much that."

Cas nodded. "Yes, as it also was, way back in mine," he agreed.

That statement did bring a startled look from Suzanne. What could Rob's uncle have meant by that? There was no way "his day" could have been "way back". Not further back than Rob's Grandpa Bobby's, anyway.

"I'm aware that times change, and certain things that were deemed acceptable back then wouldn't be, today," Bobby went on. "But, I agree with Frank: that kind of thing gets much too carried away."

"Didn't you used to call women 'broads', and 'dames'?" Rob said, grinning. He took Suzanne's hand. "Suze and I like to watch old black and white movies. Some of them are kind of hokey, but some of them are cool."

"How old do you think I AM, Boy?" Bobby said irritably.

But suddenly, Gail was realizing that if they started to talk about chronology, and peoples' ages, that subject matter could be a very slippery slope. Just look at Cas's offhanded remark a moment ago about "his day". If Suzanne had half a brain, she was going to start smelling a rat. So Gail tried to veer off the subject, without being too obvious about it: "I guess 'dame' isn't so bad, but if any guy tried to call me a broad, I'd think he was calling me fat, or something."

Frank wasn't ready to let go of the subject just yet, though. He saw more comedy gold to be mined. "It's not like we're saying you're old, Bobby, but you've gotta admit, there's a real generation gap in our language, sometimes," Gail's brother said, grinning. He looked around the table at the others gathered there. "Bobby came to our place a while back for a visit, and when we were talking about clothes, he called underwear 'BVDs'."

Rob laughed at the memory. "We had no idea what he was talking about," Frank's son chipped in. "So, we started making up things. 'Buried Very Deeply'. Those are the kind of shorts that undertakers could wear."

Frank was smiling. "And I said it could stand for 'Beach View Dream House', if City Hall would let me work from home."

"But I told him that's technically 'BVDH'," Bobby said, good-naturedly enough.

"How about 'Baby's Very Dirty'?" Sam wisecracked, looking at his brother.

"How dare you?" Dean said, pretending to be outraged.

"'Big Volume Discount'," Nicole suggested.

"'Brother Very Dopey'," was Gail's contribution.

"Oh, yeah?" Frank shot back. "OK, new game: We call this one 'Gail Can Do No Wrong'. Or, maybe it should be "Love Is Blind', or 'Cas Is The Most Patient Guy In The Universe'." He cleared his throat, looking at Gabriel. "Cas, Gail never puts the cap back on the toothpaste tube, when she's done brushing her teeth."

Gabriel cleared his own throat, and then he responded in a low growl: "That is because she wants to save you the trouble of having to open it, again." Then the Archangel turned in his chair to look at Nicole. "Cas, Gail smacked me in the face."

She was taken by surprise, but Dean's girlfriend wanted to play along. She figured that she and Gail were good enough friends now that the Angel wouldn't really mind. Too much.

Nicole thought fast. "That is because she wished to chase away the fly that was on your forehead," she said, as the men laughed.

Cas was smiling. "Not bad, but next time, try to lower your tone. My voice is much deeper than yours."

Thus encouraged, Nicole looked at Rob and said, "Cas, Gail hid my car keys."

"Well, that is because she does not want you to drink and drive," Rob said in the gravelly voice. "She is being very considerate." He was smiling. This was kind of fun. "Cas, Gail called me an 'idjit'," the young man said to Bobby.

"Well, maybe ya ARE one," Bobby said in his normal voice.

"That's it; Bobby loses the game!" Frank announced gleefully. "You know what? I think we should make this our new party game."

"I think I could think of a lot worse things I could do to you guys that Cas will excuse me for," Gail chimed in, her lips twitching. "Next time we play, I want to lead off."

"I've got another game we could play," Paul suggested. "Frank was talking about political correctness: How about politically incorrect Christmas songs?"

"'Jingle Balls'," Sam said, grinning at Bobby. "I figured I'd beat you to that one."

"'All I Want For Christmas Is...Shoes'," Frank wisecracked, but then, he shrugged. "I know, that's lame even by Dad joke standards. Give me a minute."

"I'd say 'don we now our gay apparel', but I know that's not a song title," Barry quipped. "It's a lifestyle," he added, striking a pose. Mike offered his hand for a high-five and Barry slapped it.

Bobby was looking at Paul, his beard twitching. "How about 'White Christmas'?"

Paul grinned. "I guess I asked for that, didn't I? Let's just say: only in the South, where it doesn't snow. Gail? What have you got for us?"

"Dammit! Something about chestnuts roasting over open fires!" Gail exclaimed, thinking furiously. "Come on, ladies, help me out, here."

"You guys wouldn't know about this, but there was a Canadian comedy team that put out a Christmas album. They played these characters called Bob and Doug McKenzie," Mike said, smiling.

"I remember them!" Nicole exclaimed. "They did a lot of songs about beer, right?"

"Yeah," Mike confirmed. "They wore flannel, and drank a lot of beer."

"Are you sure these were FICTIONAL characters?" Cas quipped, and everyone laughed, including the Wichesters.

"Good one, sweetie," Gail complimented her husband. "Incidentally, I always thought that 'Santa Claus Is Coming To Town' was a bit stalker-y."

"How's that?" Bobby inquired.

"'He sees you when you're sleeping; he knows when you're awake'?" Gail quoted. "I mean, come on."

Bobby gave her a nod of acknowledgement. Then he said, "I remember there was a really dark song called 'Christmas At Ground Zero'."

"Yikes. Too dark for me," Frank said, making a face. "But, how about 'Walking 'Round In Womens' Underwear'?"

"Did you just make that up?" Dean asked Gail's brother.

Frank sighed. "I wish I could take credit for it, but...no. I heard that one on the radio, years ago."

"Well, this has been really fun, but it's getting kind of late," Gail said, rising from her chair. "Cas and I are going to start making supper. "We've got to get those kids fed at a decent hour, and you guys, too. I'm sure they'll be getting us up really early in the morning."

"Do you want any help?" Nicole offered.

"They're getting expert help," Barry said, grabbing his glass of wine. "Back off, lady. This is a job for real men. Right, Cas?"

"Right," their host replied with a gentle smile. "Everyone else should just relax. We've got this."

"Hey, Paul, are Henri and his parents coming for dinner tomorrow?" Gail asked the young Angel.

"They said they were," he answered her. "Pops said they had a family thing, tonight."

"Oh." Gail was surprised. What kind of a "family thing" could the Angels have? But she couldn't say much about it right now, not with Suzanne sitting here. They were going to have to talk to Rob, and find out how much longer they would have to tiptoe around these kinds of subjects. Obviously, Suzanne didn't even know that Rob was a Hunter. But he was going to have to clue her in very soon, especially if he and his girlfriend were in love. And from what Gail had seen when she'd been casting glances their way, they were.

Rob was realizing that too, of course. He was actually amazed that one of them hadn't slipped yet and said something they couldn't explain away. He would have to come clean to Suze right after Christmas, and take his chances.

Chapter 6 - Borrowed Time

Christmas morning began noisily, as all Christmas mornings with children in the house do. Angela, Peter and Ilene woke up early and consequently, so did their parents. Cas and Gail and the rest of the Angels had been up, of course, but in deference to Rob and his situation with Suzanne, they had feigned rising early, too.

By now, the kids had been clued in to what was going on, as well. They were young, but none of them were slow-witted. They knew their family was decidedly different from the others, and they'd learned how to be discreet about it, at very young ages.

George and his parents were there, too. Most of the Angels who had been there the day before had retreated to the guest rooms down the hall, to preserve the illusion. And Paul had sent a message to Henri and his folks over Angel Radio to let them know what was going on, so they knocked on the front door of the house when they arrived on Christmas morning. Cas answered the door with a smile, thanking them non-verbally for playing along.

The kids were in their pajamas in the living room, waiting excitedly for everyone to gather for the opening of the presents. But first, the grownups had a ritual of their own to observe.

Dean poured shots of alcohol into everyone's mugs, and the adults toasted each other.

"This'll do the trick," Frank said, lifting his mug in salute.

"Yeah, it will," Dean agreed with a smirk. "I like getting a bit of a buzz on in the morning."

"That's not what I was talking about," Frank said with a raised eyebrow. "Put it this way; it was either coffee or bran flakes, if you know what I mean."

"I have a high fibre granola blend you could try," Sam said, nudging Frank.

Gail wrinkled up her nose. "Seriously? Ewww. We are NOT talking about this."

Now it was Dean who elbowed Frank. "You don't want to be eating any of Sammy's hippie granola crap," he advised. "If you want the mail to move, stick with the bran. Oh, and make the coffee strong."

"Too bad you don't do manual labour," Mike weighed in. "Every morning, I pour a big travel cup of hot, strong coffee, get in the truck, and by the time I get to the shop, I'm good to go. So to speak."

"OK, this is officially the most disgusting conversation I've ever heard first thing in the morning," Gail said, rolling her eyes.

"You should be on set, when some of the guys arrive," Nicole told her. "This one wouldn't even crack the Top Ten."

"Yeah, well, all I know is, the next guy who mentions anything about...anything like that, is going to be forced to wear the ugly Christmas sweater all day," Gail remarked with a sly smile.

"The what, now?" Frank asked her.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" she said innocently. "We're instituting a new Christmas tradition. First one to piss off the hostess Christmas morning has to wear the ugliest Christmas sweater we could find."

"So, just because we're talking about a perfectly normal bodily function..." Frank started to protest.

"And, we have a winner!" Gail announced gleefully. She looked at Cas. "Sweetie, could you go to our room and get my brother his sweater? It'll go great with the elf hat we got him, last year." She gave her brother a toothy grin. "Oh, and just so you know, the material is really, really itchy."

"I will end your life," Frank muttered darkly.

"Don't mind my Dad and my Aunt," Rob said hastily to Suzanne. "They talk like this all the time."

The young woman laughed. "Don't worry. Just because I don't have any brothers or sisters of my own, that doesn't mean that I don't know how siblings like to tease each other."

"I'm not teasing," Gail said cheerfully. "I'm one hundred percent serious."

"So am I," her brother said.

"Well then, I guess we have a standoff," Gail said stubbornly. "I'll tell you what: if you agree to do the dishes after supper tonight, we'll just forget the whole thing. Otherwise, you have no choice."

"You're all of five feet nothing," Frank shot back. "Try it. I dare you."

"Ooooh, look at me, I'm shaking," she said sarcastically.

They hadn't gotten an ugly sweater for anyone, of course. Gail had just been giving her brother a hard time. But he was calling her bluff now, so she had no alternative but to confess, "Ahhh, I was just messing with you." Then Gail poked Frank in the stomach. "But beware, 'cause I've just given myself a fantastic idea for next year."

The adults started to file into the living room, with their cups of coffee in hand. Frank lowered himself slowly to the floor, to sit in front of the tree. "I think Santa's gonna need an armchair, next year," he remarked. "It's getting harder and harder to get down here." He began to read peoples' names out loud from the tags on the presents, and Angela and Gail were passing out the gifts to everyone.

Then the opening frenzy began, and then the recipients were calling out, telling the others what they'd received, and from who.

"Hey, this one's for me, from Angela," Frank remarked. He put it on the floor beside him. "I'll open it in a bit, after everybody else has one."

"No, Daddy, you have to open it now!" Angela insisted, running over to him. "It's essential!"

"Oh, well, if it's 'essential', then I guess I have no choice," Frank said with amusement, as the adults smiled. He put the present on his lap and started tearing at the paper. "Oh, look. It's a box," Frank announced, and Angela rolled her eyes. "Dad! Open it! I got it for you myself, with my allowance!"

"With a little assist from me, and my car," Rob said with a grin. "But she definitely picked it out herself."

Frank opened the box, and he just sat there looking at the open box for a moment.

"Well? What is it?" Henri said impatiently.

Frank reached into the box and pulled out the ugliest, gaudiest, most ridiculous Christmas sweater that any of them had ever seen. It had bright, vibrant colours which all clashed with each other, and red bows sewn all up and down the sleeves. Rudolph's red-nosed head protruded from the chest, and there were jingle bells imbedded in the stomach area, which jingled loudly every time the sweater moved.

"Isn't it great, Daddy?" Angela enthused. "Put it on!"

Frank looked at his sister, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. But all she could do was shrug. "I had nothing to do with this," Gail said innocently. "Your daughter's obviously got great taste."

"Put it on, Daddy! I want to see how it looks!" Angela exhorted her father, and now, she was giving him the superpowered Doe Eyes. He sighed, pulling the sweater on over his head.

"That's the best thing I've ever seen you wear," Dean said happily, as the other men grinned widely. Better Frank than them. "You should never, ever take it off."

"I almost forgot about the best part!" Angela exclaimed. She moved closer to her father. "If you press on Rudolph's nose - " She reached out, and suddenly, the familiar song began to issue from the sweater, and the nose glowed bright red.

Gail lost it. She doubled over laughing, clutching at her stomach. Angela and the other kids were dancing to the song, and Frank's face was as red as Rudolph's nose.

"Stand up! Let's see it, in all its glory!" Bobby called out to Gail's brother, who glowered at him. But Angela was jumping up and down, clapping her hands with glee, and she was Frank's little girl. He got to his feet and spun around slowly, jingling with every move. Everybody was clapping and cheering, now.

"Sammy - " Dean started to say, but his brother already had his cell phone out. "I'm on it," Sam said with a grin, pushing the button to record the video.

Frank looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said to her, because in his house, people had manners.

"You're welcome, Daddy! You look so handsome," she told him.

"You hear that? I look handsome," Frank said to the others. He puffed out his chest, producing more jingling sounds. Then he bent down and scooped his daughter up in his arms, giving her a big hug and a kiss.

"You sure do, Frank," Bobby agreed. "You sure do."

As the family continued to open their Christmas gifts, Vincent was shivering on the front lawn of one of the local churches. It was ridiculously cold outside, and there was at least a foot of snow on the ground. He'd been spoiled, living in the Caribbean all this time.

But it was time to take care of a little business now, and there was no way he was going to miss out on the delicious irony of doing it on Christmas Day, at a church that was practically in the Angels' backyard.

People would be arriving for the Christmas service any time now, though, so he'd better not linger too long. He looked down at the nativity scene. How classy. A squalling brat, born to some woman who claimed to be a virgin, and the sucker who'd believed her. Three mercenaries who were bringing expensive gifts to an hours-old baby. History's first ass-kissers, Vincent thought scornfully. He rolled his eyes. The kid had been born on a bed of straw, in a place that had to have smelled like weeks-old dung, based on all the animals that were always present in depictions of the scene. What did he need with gold? They called that child a King? Yeah, right. His parents hadn't even been good enough to get a room at the Bethlehem Holiday Inn.

Vincent smirked at his own wit. He looked down at the nativity scene once more and then reared back and kicked it, as hard as he could. The statues of Mary, Joseph and the Wise Men shattered, and the baby Jesus and the manger he lay in went sailing across the church's snow-covered lawn.

"Look at that flying baby," Vincent said in a low voice, highly amused. "Is it Mardi Gras, already?"

Then he popped into the church and took the eyedropper out of his pocket. He filled it with Holy water from one of the dispensers from the vestibule. A few drops would be all that was needed for the spell to summon the Angel of the Abyss, but the stuff would be useful for other spells, too. Besides, he still had to figure out where the Prophet was, before he could do the spell again.

Vincent spared a glance toward the altar, where the golden chalice was resting. Damn it; if he had a bit more time, he would pop over there and snatch a few communion wafers, while he was at it. He'd used up the last one in that potion he'd made at Becky's place, the one to age Damien into a version of the Beast he could actually stand to be around.

But now, the church bells were chiming, announcing Christmas mass. Vincent gritted his teeth. He hated that sound. He hated everything about places like this. People came here once or twice a year, gladhanding other people they actually hated, acting all pious and devout. What hypocrites, each and every one of them. At least Vincent was honest about who he was and what he believed in, and he was raising his son the same way.

He put the eyedropper in his pocket, took one last scornful look around, and then vanished.

Abbadon had tossed and turned all night, and the dream she'd had around dawn had been so vivid and so disturbing that she'd woken up in a cold sweat, knowing that her attempts to sleep were at an end.

Rowena was still sleeping soundly, her red hair splayed on the pillow in tangles. As witches, they didn't celebrate Christmas, of course. But they'd had one helluva party here last night, anyway. Apparently, there were a lot of people in town who preferred orgies and pagan rituals to Christian celebrations. Then again, when there were an open bar, recreational drugs, and gorgeous women on offer, who the hell even cared if it was a special occasion?

Abbadon slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Rowena. She loved her friend and business partner to the extent that she was capable of loving anyone, but Abbadon knew that the redhead was a stone cold bitch when she was hung over. Not that Abbadon was one to talk. As she put on her robe and padded to the bathroom, the floor seemed to slant to the side and she had to stop for a minute, to see what would happen next. Her stomach rolled, her head hurt, and she felt a burning sensation in her intimate region. That was what she got for hanging around with a bunch of pagans, Abbadon thought wryly. Not that she hadn't enjoyed the revels, of course. You couldn't be a half-Demon and not enjoy a good orgy.

But, it was these damn visions. She and Rowena had never figured out what they were all about. They'd always come in fractured, disjointed pieces. Dead Angels, with Angel blades protruding from their chests. Castiel, arguing with a diminutive, dark-haired woman, who could only be his wife. A young boy, with his father's dark looks and dark smile, sitting on a beach somewhere, and a young woman who Abbadon knew to be the baby's mother, stealing furtive, apprehensive glances at him.

But in the dream she'd had just before dawn, Abbadon had received her marching orders. She was to clean herself up, and wait to be summoned. It was a good thing that Rowena was down for the count, because it would have been hard for Abbadon to say goodbye to her. Despite the occasional conflict they'd had, the redheaded witch had been the closest thing to a sister that a woman like Abbadon could ever have.

And it would have been even harder for Abbadon to explain to Rowena where she had to go now. As the current, politically-correct term went, Abbadon had always self-identified as a Demon, because that was what she'd always thought she was. But Vincent had shown her in her dream that she was also half-Angel, a product of an Unoly union between a male Angel and a human woman, who had been possessed by a Demon at the time. No wonder Castiel had always had such feelings of disgust and loathing, when dealing with her. He wasn't the father, of course, but he would have been utterly shocked at who was.

It was funny, really, how Castiel's name had never come up in conversation between Rowena and Abbadon. Rowena had no knowledge of that part of her partner's existence. Had she known, the women would have had much, much more to talk about. But, perhaps it was just as well. Abbadon hated Castiel and the Winchesters, and from her viewpoint, she had good reason. Rowena, on the other hand, had been reconsidering her own attitude toward the trio, due to her familial relationship with Gail. Rowena was far more perceptive than many people gave her credit for, and she had come to realize that if she hoped to survive going forward, she should try her best to bury the hatchet with that group. That had been the purpose of her recent visit with Bobby. Rowena had actually been telling the truth, on that score. Hopefully, there would come a time when that lot wouldn't view her with such mistrust. But if they did, and if her son-in-law was still intent on ending her life, Rowena had those Codices stashed away, for insurance. She might even consider giving them to the Angels outright, if they were able to forge a less contentious association with each other. What was SHE going to do with ancient Holy texts, powder her nose with them?

But, just as Abbadon had never shared the details of her past history with Castiel and those Winchester men, Rowena had never told Abbadon about the Codices. The woman was a Demon, after all. Imagine if Bobby was able to persuade Castiel to give Rowena another chance, only to find out that she had allowed her erstwhile Demon lover to get her claws on God's word? They would have to hire a steam shovel to dig the hole that would be required for her grave, if Rowena messed up that badly.

Rowena slept soundly on Christmas morning, unaware that Abbadon was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, taking one last look at her. The half-Demon felt oddly sentimental. She and Rowena had been a lot of things to each other during Abbadon's relatively brief stay here, but now, their relationship was on the precipice. Because, by the time the ball dropped in Times Square, the two women were going to have to decide whose side they were really on.

Abbadon's head snapped up. She was getting the call to go to him, and she was unable to refuse. This was her legacy; the reason she had been conceived in the first place. Her father had been carefully planning this, for years and years. Centuries. Vincent was an infant, compared to the Angel who was really pulling the strings. An amateur. The Voodoo Priest thought that he was the most malevolent, most frightening individual in existence. He had no idea; absolutely none. Gail's father continued to exist solely because he was useful. And as far as that whole snake-charming, blood ritual, baby-killing routine went, it couldn't hold a candle to some of the deeds that had been done back in Biblical times. Castiel would know all about those, of course, as would Gabriel. Crowley, too.

Abbadon blew Rowena a silent farewell kiss, and then she popped out of the apartment. Seconds later, she reappeared on the corner of Castiel and Gail's street. Vincent was there, along with the young woman and the boy Abbadon had seen in her visions.

"THERE you are," Vincent said with a smile once Abbadon arrived, as if he'd been waiting a while. He put his hand on Damien's shoulder. "This is my son Damien, aka the Beast of the Apocalypse. Damien, this is Abbadon, the Angel of the Abyss. She's here to join the team. And, may I say, you're not at all what I was expecting. The ancient writings said you were a man."

"Well, I can be a real ass sometimes, and I don't mind being the one on top," Abbadon quipped.

Vincent laughed, and when he did, the overhead electrical wires that connected the neighbouring blocks' houses to the grid for that quadrant of the city burst into flames. Dozens of people wouldn't be getting a nice, hot turkey dinner tonight, and dozens more would be sitting in the cold and the dark, just trying their best to stay warm. But what did Vincent care? He was going to be back in the Caribbean in a minute or two, working on his tan, with a gorgeous half-Demon woman beside him. Boy, was he glad the ancient scribes had been wrong on this one. He was already envisioning Abbadon in a bathing suit. They had business to take care of in the New Year, but there was no reason they couldn't have a little hedonistic fun in the sun, first.

Vincent looked down the block, at the Angels' house. Right around now, they would be in the backyard, building their stupid snowmen. He rolled his eyes. Vincent couldn't believe that his daughter would think that something as lame as that could be fun. If he could, he would stay here for another hour or so, wait till their snow sculptures were done, and then snap his fingers and explode them, all over the place. With any luck, an icicle would fly into someone's neck, and sever their carotid artery. Unfortunately, Vincent couldn't get any closer to the house than he was, right now. Like the bunker, it was heavily shielded all year long, but today of all days, there was a very powerful vibe of Goodness that emanated from the place. The invisible aura was like low-grade radiation to someone like Vincent. That was OK with him, though. He wasn't the one who needed to go there.

"So, are we clear?" Vincent said to Becky, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I know you're not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, so I want to make sure you know what to say."

Becky was frowning. "Of course I know what to say. You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" Vincent's hand tightened painfully on her shoulder, and his claws came out, digging into her flesh. Neither Damien nor Abbadon reacted. Damien had seen his father's true form a few times by now, and it didn't bother him. In fact, he'd thought it was pretty cool. And Abbadon had certainly seen worse. Hell, she'd slept with worse, and she probably would again, based on the way Vincent was looking at her. Abbadon didn't care. She'd had hundreds of sexual partners, men and women alike. Sometimes, at the very same time. She didn't believe there was anything that would faze her any more. She would soon find out that she'd been very wrong about that.

Vincent took a deep breath, and his claws retracted. "I just want to make sure you're not going to screw this up, Becky. It's as much for your sake as it is for mine. If this works the way it should, you can still have that happy little family with Sam that you've always wanted." For a short time, anyway, he added, smirking to himself. "But if you mess this up for me," he continued aloud, "you can look forward to an excruciatingly painful New Year." He took his hand away. "Now, off you go. If you hurry, maybe Cas will let you say Grace at the dinner table. Won't that be great?"

Becky sighed. She did a lot of that, these days. The only good thing about being forced to go to Gail and Cas's house on Christmas Day was that she would be far away from Vincent. But she wasn't looking forward to the reception that she and her suddenly-nine-year-old son were going to receive. Hopefully, they would believe her story, or she was going to be in a lot of trouble.

"Feliz Navidad, you two," Vincent said, making shooing motions. "Catch you on the flip side."

Becky took Damien's hand, and her son rolled his eyes. But he didn't pull away, because he understood what they were going for, here. Chronologically, he was nine years old, but thanks to his heritage and his father's recent tutelage, the boy's thought process was much more sophisticated than any other boy of his age. It was much more devious, too.

Vincent stood there and watched as mother and son crunched their way down the street, through the newly fallen snow. He waited until Becky actually knocked on the door. A part of him had thought that she might grab the kid and try to make a run for it. Not that the dizzy bitch would get very far, of course.

"You up for some Sex On The Beach?" Vincent asked Abbadon. "And we can do shooters too, if you want." He giggled, and Abbadon looked at him, expressionless. There was nothing worse than a man who was in love with his own perceived wit. Crowley was like that, too. Abbadon had no idea that that was anything but a coincidence. But she would find out. Yes, she would.

Vincent and Abbadon disappeared from the corner as the front door of the Angels' house opened.

Becky'd had to knock a couple of times, because there was a lot of bustling going on inside the house. They had just come in from building the snowmen, and everyone had been stomping the snow off their boots and shedding their coats at the back door. Gail had headed directly for the kitchen to put on some hot chocolate and snacks, and Cas was gathering up everyone's coats, to put them away.

Becky knocked louder then, and both the host and hostess happened to hear it, at the same time. Gail hurried to the front door from the kitchen, and Cas arrived there at the same moment.

The Angels smiled at each other. "I have no idea who this could be, but I'm glad of their presence, nonetheless," Cas said to his wife. "I feel like I've hardly seen you, all day."

Gail put her arms around his waist. "I know, right?" she agreed. "That does it; next year, I'm going to cheat, and make sure we're on the same team."

They exchanged a kiss, and then Cas opened the door.

It was Becky, and she was crying. "We need your help! Can we come in, please?"

The couple looked at each other, open-mouthed, and then they looked back at her. "Please," Becky repeated. "Vincent is looking for us. I know that we'll be safe, if we can come in the house."

Cas opened the door wider. "Come in, come in," he urged, gesturing. As Gail moved aside to make room, Cas poked his head outside. But he saw nothing, and no one. Becky was quite right: Vincent would be unable to even get near the house, not with the protections Cas had put on the place. Still, he had wanted to make sure.

Becky and Damien were both shivering from the cold. They didn't even have to pretend about that. Becky had manufactured the tears she was shedding now, but the fact that both of them were coatless and shaking made their appearance that much more pathetic.

What the hell was going on, here? Gail thought, eyeing Becky. What was she doing here, and who was the little kid? Gail sighed. She wondered if Bobby had the power to cloak their house from humans, altogether. Maybe she should ask him to do that next year, so Becky couldn't just keep showing up like this.

But the little boy was trembling from the cold, and it looked like he was about to start crying, too. "I'll be right back," Gail said, and she did an about-face, moving down the hall to the linen closet. She took a couple of fleece blankets from the shelf and brought them back to where their visitors stood. "Here," Gail said, handing the blankets to Becky. She looked at Cas. "I'll go get some hot chocolate, to warm you guys up."

As Gail moved towards the kitchen, Cas took one of the blankets from Becky and crouched down to drape it around Damien's shoulders. "What's your name?" the Angel asked him.

Damien stared at Cas for a moment. Because he was a special child, he remembered this man talking gently to him, changing his diapers, tickling his tummy. The fierce warrior Castiel, fawning all over him. And because he was his father's son, Damien felt scorn. But he was careful not to show it. The whole purpose of his being here was to become accepted by the God Squad. Not that they would know that he had a mission, of course. As far as they were concerned, poor little Brian was a victim of that horrible, scary man, Vincent.

"My name's Damien. What's yours?" the boy said sweetly. He grabbed the blanket from Cas's hands and stepped back, wrapping it around himself. "I can do it. I'm a big boy, now," Damien added, but then he smiled shyly so the Angel wouldn't take offense. Damien had learned that he could get away with a lot of bad behaviour if he used that smile strategically. People were suckers for little kids, especially the really cute ones. Damien had his father's good looks and charm, and those big, dark eyes of his, the ones that had looked so unsettling when he was a baby, worked to his advantage now. Whenever the boy had attempted to push the limits of what was deemed to be acceptable behaviour, all he'd had to do was widen those eyes, and all was forgiven. Of course, to be fair, the people he'd been exposed to in the Caribbean had generally been of questionable moral fibre, to say the least. This would be Damien's real test, right here. Like his father had, the boy could feel the waves of goodness emanating from the Angels here in the house. But, because he was a child, he was still innocent enough in deed to be able to stand it.

As for Becky, she wasn't faring quite as well. Vincent had performed a spell, some kind of ritual before they'd left the Caribbean that was supposed to have purified her enough to be around all those Angels, God, and those infernal candlesticks. But it could only go so far. Becky had kidnapped and butchered innocent children to feed her son and herself, and then when they'd gotten to Vincent's domain, she had allowed herself to get caught up in some of the more sensual, ritualistic activities of the cult. It was easier just to go along, than to have to bear Vincent's disapproval. And Becky knew deep down that she was damned, anyway. There would be no coming back from what she had done. How could there be? So she might as well live a little, before she had to worry about that. She'd had to hand it to those people; they sure knew how to enjoy themselves. And after all the months of drudgery and full-time infant care, Becky had certainly been enjoying lounging on the beach, drinking strong rum drinks, and receiving the attentions of the cult members. Vincent had told them all that she was the Mother, and as such, Becky was to be treated with the utmost respect. Not that Vincent cared, but he didn't want Becky to be underfoot all the time, getting in his way.

And maybe, just maybe, a very small part of Vincent had wanted to make that whole baby thing up to her. Damien was fantastic; better than Vincent could have ever dreamed. His development, in the very short time his father had had to teach him, had been remarkable. Vincent had produced some impressive spawn over the years, but Damien was head and shoulders above all the others.

One of the impressive qualities that Damien possessed was a keen sense of perception, and he could sense the puzzlement coming from Castiel now. The Angel was scrutinizing the child, and Damien knew that Cas was trying to get a read on him. That was why the boy had stepped back from Castiel's touch. Why give him any more reason for suspicion?

Damien looked at his mother now. She was just staring at Cas, looking like a deer frozen in headlights. The boy restrained himself from rolling his eyes. She was his mother, and so he felt some affection for her on that basis alone. He supposed he even loved her, a little bit. But a part of him also understood Vincent's disdain for her. She was vain and empty-headed, and he knew she resented everything she'd had to do to keep him alive. But she was going to be very useful now, too. If she could just open her mouth, that was.

Gail came back with the hot chocolate, and that seemed to snap Becky out of it. Damien's mother looked at the Angels and said, "I'm sorry, but Damien's very shy. He's got a bit of a phobia about being touched."

"Who is he, and where's Brian?" Gail asked the young woman.

Becky frowned. "This IS Brian."

Abbadon was in the washroom changing into her bathing suit, and Vincent was on the lanai, looking at the strip of beach that the cottage was built on. He'd been planning to wait, but the moment that he and Abbadon had popped in here, Vincent had been all over her. Then her eyes had turned black and she had matched him move for move, until they'd both been panting with exhaustion.

Vincent was happy now, or at least, as happy as a man like him ever got. And the happier he was, the more miserable he wanted other people to be. The God Squad were going to be plenty miserable, very soon. Once the Beast of the Apocalypse had wormed his way into their home and most of their hearts, the fun was set to begin.

But it was Christmas, and Vincent was in the giving mood. He might as well tie up a few loose ends in the next few days. Because as soon as Damien hit the age of ten and they found the so-called False Prophet to complete their happy little group, things were going to get extremely busy.

He cleared his mind and sent out the message: "It's time."

"WHAT?! What do you mean, this is Brian?" Gail exclaimed. And of course, that was the moment that Sam came down the hallway towards them.

Andy sat on his bed with his head down and his hands dangling between his knees. It was late Christmas afternoon now, and nothing had come for him. He guessed he really hadn't had the right to expect anything. Just because his niece had sent him a Christmas gift that one time... He hadn't seen her since that whole pirate chest fiasco, anyway. Vincent had used Andy to screw around with them, and Andy hadn't helped things any by threatening Gail when she, her husband, and their friends had been here. No wonder she didn't want anything to do with him any more.

Vincent had started up again a month or so ago, crowing about a new family member who was going to change everything. Andy had done his best to shut his brother out. What did he care about Vincent's little bastards? Andy had tried thinking about other things to banish Vincent from his head, and the tactics had worked for a short time. But eventually, the messages began to bleed through again. Vincent was feeling magnanimous, he told his brother. He wanted to give Andy another chance, a chance to be part of the family. Part of the legacy that Vincent was going to be building soon. All his little brother had to do was kill someone, and drink some of their blood.

Yeah, Andy had responded, unable to help himself. Right. Like he would ever do something like that.

You have those kinds of thoughts all the time, Vincent had pointed out.

I wouldn't say "all the time", Andy had protested. Just once in a while. And I happen to know that everybody thinks about killing somebody once in a while. Everybody. Even normal, non-crazy people.

Maybe, Vincent had shot back, both impressed and annoyed by his brother's logical argument. But you've actually DONE it. Don't you remember why you ended up in that hospital in the first place?

That wasn't a person, it was a dog, Andy contradicted him. And I sure as hell never drank its blood. That's gross and disgusting.

Vincent's own blood had begun to boil then. Who the hell did his brother think he was? How dare he stand up to Vincent this way? Andy's only value to him had ever been his potential to be a homicidal maniac.

So then the Voodoo Priest had lost it, telling Andy he was a pathetic loser whose continued existence was an insult to the human race, and then Vincent had stopped talking altogether. Andy was glad. If he'd had more of a backbone, he would have told his brother that HE was an insult to the human race. Andy had actually gone to bed with a little smile on his face that night, fantasizing about telling Gail he'd said that to Vincent. The two of them would have a good laugh, and maybe Castiel would even shake Andy's hand, and congratulate him on such a good retort.

Those kinds of thoughts had kept Andy going for the next couple of days, but then, the depression had begun to set in again. None of that was ever going to happen. He was a crazy old man, who had driven the only decent relative he had away, with his talk of violence. He was going to sit here and rot into a pile of dessicated flesh and bone, and never see the outside world again. And there was Vincent sitting on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean, letting the sun warm his face.

By the time Christmas morning rolled around, Andy had woken up early and sat on the edge of his bed, fidgeting with the sleeves on his robe. Would she send him another gift this year? Maybe some nice warm slippers, to go along with his robe? The ones the hospital issued were thin and uncomfortable. He had allowed himself to get excited, thinking about the possibility.

When lunchtime had come and gone, Andy had started to bargain with himself: If the gift came, he would talk to the hospital staff about letting him go out on the grounds, once in a while. Even if they wanted to put shackles on him for security reasons, he wouldn't care. Whatever they felt like they had to do, he would cooperate gladly, just to feel the fresh air again. Then maybe if he showed them that he could do that, they would let him call Gail, and thank her for the terrific present. Whatever it turned out to be.

But now it was nearly suppertime, and Andy had to face the fact: there was nothing coming. Now, he had a decision to make.

Sam and Cas and Gail were all looking at each other. None of them knew what to say. Was Becky nuts?

"Uhh...Brian's a baby," Gail said to Becky, as if Becky was the child.

"No, he's not," Becky insisted. "I'm telling you guys the truth! Vincent came to my house, and he did a spell on Brian, and the spell grew him! Then he said from now on, Brian's name was going to be Damien, and I'd better do whatever Vincent said, or he was going to kill Brian! I mean, Damien! So I took a knife out of the drawer, and said he would have to kill me, first! Then he left, but he said he'd be back. So I grabbed Damien by the hand, and took off. I didn't even stop to get my coat, and he doesn't have one, of course, 'cause he was a baby!"

Becky burst into tears as Sam looked at her, his brow furrowed. None of what she was saying made any sense. Why would Gail's father just show up out of the blue and age Sam's son? WAS there even such a thing? Had Becky lost her mind, or was Vincent just screwing with them?

Cas didn't believe a word of it. Vincent would never threaten to kill the Beast of the Apocalypse. Or even if he had wanted to, for some peculiar reason, he wouldn't have been able to anyway, not without the Chosen One, and Gabriel's blade. There was something very fishy going on here.

Of course there was, Gail said over their frequency, making eye contact with her husband. Assuming that this really was Brian, Gail agreed with Cas: there was no way Vincent was killing the Beast. Gail knew that Brian, or Damien, or whatever the hell his name was, wasn't Sam's son, he was Vincent's. This whole thing stunk to high Heaven. So to speak.

"Look, Becky, I don't know what you think you're trying to pull, here," Gail said irritably. She turned to look at Sam. "We should have told you, as soon as I found out," she said to their friend. "You're not Brian's father."

"Damien," Becky corrected her, and Gail made an impatient sound. "Whatever!" she exclaimed. "Sam, you're not the kid's father. Vincent is."

Sam stared at her open-mouthed, as Becky's eyes narrowed. That bitch, she thought. Becky didn't know how Gail knew, and she didn't even care. Once again, Gail was sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. But Becky had to be very careful now. If she blew this for Vincent, she would suffer for it.

"No, he's not!" Becky wailed again. "How could you even SAY a thing like that?"

"Because I read your thoughts, that's how," Gail told the girl. "Remember when I touched your head, outside the psychiatrist's office?"

Now Becky wailed even louder. "Nooo! You've got me all wrong! I thought you were my friend!"

"I was, until you pulled this stunt," Gail retorted acidly.

This was his cue, Damien realized. He started to cry, too. "Mommy, I'm scared," he said, reaching his hand out for Becky. "That lady hates me."

Oh, brother, Gail thought. Whoever this kid was, he was damn good. But, what was the point? If he wasn't Brian, they would find out soon enough. But if he was, what then? She looked at Cas.

Sam got down on one knee beside the boy. "Gail doesn't hate you, she's just trying to figure out what's going on," he said to the child in a soothing voice. "We all are."

Damien saw his opportunity. He threw his arms around Sam's neck. "Don't let that bad man hurt me, Daddy. Please!" he entreated Sam.

The younger Winchester put his arms gently and tentatively around the little boy. He was trembling. He was so slender, Sam thought, his heart clenching.

As soon as they made physical contact, Damien knew that he already had Sam. But just to be on the safe side, he kissed Sam on the cheek. And, as an extra bonus, the boy tilted his arm, spilling his hot chocolate on the floor.

Gail was doing the slow burn. No one would ever be able to convince her that the kid hadn't done that on purpose. Oh, this was Vincent's son, all right. Then Sam picked the boy up in his arms, and Damien looked right at Gail, smiling. She rolled her eyes. The boy's name was Damien. Her father liked his little jokes, didn't he?

"Do you want a cookie?" Sam said to the child in a soft, gentle tone. "You can come in and meet your family. They're all here, for Christmas." He looked at Cas and Gail. "I'll get him situated with the other kids, and ask somebody to watch over him. Then we can go to the kitchen and talk some more, where we can't be overheard."

Sam took off down the hall with Damien still in his arms as Gail glared after them. She wondered idly what the penalty would be for an Angel who punched a kid in the face on Christmas Day. But maybe they could cut her some slack, since it looked as if the plan to kill him would have to be accelerated, anyway.

Becky was trying not to smile at the expression on Gail's face. This might be kind of fun. And, who knew? She had also seen the look on Sam's face when Brian - no, Damien - had hugged and kissed him. If she played this right, Becky and Sam might have a nice little family situation, after all.

But she had to make nice with Cas and Gail now, because like it or not, their opinion was very important to Sam. Dean's, too. Becky's stomach churned. She wasn't looking forward to being confronted by Dean, or Bobby, either. Hopefully, the fact that she'd brought a little kid here on Christmas Day with a sob story about their being victims would help. And if Gail didn't like it, she could just shove it, Becky thought viciously. But for now, she had a role to play, and she had better play the hell out of it.

Cedric brought the supper trays down the corridor, shoving them in their receptacles. "Merry Christmas," he said tonelessly at every room. Like these crazies were gonna know the difference. But at least they were getting turkey tonight. The real thing, too, not just the processed stuff they were fed the rest of the year. There was a little square brownie on the corner of each tray, and even a plastic cup filled with eggnog. No booze, of course, but still...

He got to Andy's enclosure, and what Cedric saw stopped him short. Because what he saw was nothing, and no one. Where the hell was the patient?

Cas, Gail, Bobby, Sam, Dean and Becky were in the kitchen talking now, and Gabriel had discreetly popped himself there from the hallway outside the living room. Cas had tried to convince the Archangel that somebody had to keep an eye on the Beast, but Gabe had given him a look. Yeah. Nice try. There was no way Gabe was missing this. He'd strode over to the dining room table and grabbed the blessed golden candlesticks, sticking them on end tables on either side of the boy, who was sitting on the living room floor watching the other kids play a board game. There, Gabriel had said over their frequency. That ought to hold the little bastard. Cas had let out a frustrated breath, but now was not the time to argue. They had to find out what was going on.

"So, let me get this straight: you came here to get our protection from Vincent?" Bobby was questioning Becky. "And you're saying that kid is Sam's baby, Brian?"

"I know it's hard to believe, Bobby, but it's true," Becky insisted. "Here; I can prove it." She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled it out: Rowena's spell book.

"What the hell are you doing with THAT?" Dean demanded. "We've been looking for that stupid thing for...I don't even know how long."

Becky started to cry again. "I took it from the bunker. I'm sorry, I just wanted to get a little help with my modelling career, and - "

" - And hex the crap out of Sam," Gail said, fuming. "Not to mention the rest of us. You dosed us at Frank's place, didn't you?"

"And you gave me something, the night you got pregnant with Brian!" Sam added angrily.

"Yes...no...I mean... Stop yelling at me!" Becky exclaimed tearfully. "Yes, I admit, I tried to make a potion from that stupid book, and I messed up the ingredients. I was trying to make myself look younger, so I could try to go back to my modelling career when Brian - Damien - got a little older. But I was too scared to take the potion without trying it out, first. So I put it in that bottle of wine, to see if it would work on you guys. I'm sorry! But that was the only time I did that, I swear. I didn't give you anything, Sam. I didn't! I'm scared of that book, now. Take it back; I don't want anything to do with it."

Sam took the book from her and started leafing through it. "You said Vincent used this to do the spell on Brian."

"Yeah," Becky said, wide-eyed. "There was nothing I could do about it."

Dean was looking around at everyone now, and there was a skeptical look on his face. "Anybody buying this?"

"Here it is," Sam said, holding the book open.

Dean was looking over his shoulder. "Does this look legit to you?" he said to Bobby, pointing to the place Sam was indicating.

Bobby looked, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? How the hell should I know?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You know, there's a very obvious solution, here," he said impatiently. He walked quickly out of the kitchenas they all looked at each other. A minute or two later, he was back.

"I would have been quicker, but I had to walk in and out of the room," Gabriel told them dryly. "Young Rob really needs to have 'The Talk' with his girlfriend. Anyway, I read the kid. He's definitely Brian."

What a weird experience THAT had been. Gabriel had sat down next to the child, and made a show of ruffling his hair. The boy, who had been introduced to them all as Damien, had made a face, but it had been too late. Gabe had been able to tell right away that the boy was indeed Brian, the Beast of the Apocalypse, and confirm that Vincent had aged him using that spell book. Brian/Damien was 9 years old, now. He would be 10 next year, on the anniversary date of the spell. Great. Just peachy. The window had just gotten a lot more narrow.

Damien had fought tenaciously to push Gabriel out of his mind, and he had been successful in the end. But Gabe had been able to pick up one more little tidbit before he'd been forced out: Damien WAS Vincent's son, not Sam's, just as Gail had said. And the kid was one hundred and ten percent evil. Gabriel was surprised he'd been able to step across the threshhold of the damn house. But they were obviously dealing with some heavy-duty Biblical power, here. They'd better find the Chosen One, and they'd better find him fast.

Cedric fumbled the keyring off his belt and unlocked the door to Andy's room. He rushed inside.

Oh, wait. There he was, laying on the floor under the bunk. Crap! The patient was laying on the floor, under the bunk!

Cedric knelt beside Andy, checking for a pulse. It was there, but it was thin and thready. "What did you do, you crazy old bastard?" Cedric muttered, struggling to roll Andy out from under there. As he did, Cedric noticed the mattress was crooked. He grabbed the corner with one hand, lifting it. Aww, geez. Pills. Dozens of pills, as far as the eye could see. Dammit! Heads were gonna roll, if the old guy died. Ced had better spread the word to the other orderlies that they'd better watch themselves, and their patients, more closely for the next few months.

"I'm an insult to society," Andy mumbled. "I didn't get a Christmas present. I should just die. Vincent wants me to do bad things."

Cedric looked at the patient's face for a moment. He wasn't making a lot of sense. How many of those pills had he taken? Now, Ced felt a twinge of guilt. He and the other guys who were on duty this morning had been complaining about working on Christmas Day, for not much more than minimum wage. They'd passed a bottle of alcohol around and poured generous dollops into their coffee, and the conversation had deteriorated to the point where the orderlies were talking about the fact that the crazies were getting treated better than THEY were. From that, it had been a short leap to raiding the Christmas gifts that had been sent in for the patients. One of Ced's co-workers had opened Andy's present, and then taken it for himself. And, yes, it had been a pair of slippers, and, yes, it had been from the old guy's niece and her husband.

Maybe Cedric would snitch on the guy and maybe he wouldn't, but for now, he had to do his damn job. This guy might be crazy, but there was no way he deserved to die on Christmas. Nobody did.

Cedric took the walkie off of his belt, and called for help.

As the hospital staff worked feverishly to save Andy's life and the highest-ranking Angels Heaven had to offer were currently brainstorming about Damien, Leah was sitting in her overstuffed chair, the ever-present quilt on her lap. But these days, she used it more for the warmth it gave than to predict future events. The Sight had left her in the past year. That had been all right with the older Angel; she had been very happy to help Castiel, but some of the things she had been shown were so devastating that they had broken Leah's heart. For instance, she had known that Liz and Gabriel would never marry, because Leah had known that Liz was going to be sacrificed. Leah had also known for quite a while now that Matthew hadn't committed suicide, and she also knew that Anthony was now among the ranks of the deceased, as well. How much longer would it be until they came for her?

It was late Christmas night now, and the humans and the remainder of the Angels had all retired to their rooms. Bobby was standing in the kitchen, glaring at Gabriel, Cas, and Gail. "OK, you three: Does somebody want to tell me what's actually going on here, or am I gonna have to start strapping you down and reading your minds?"

They exchanged glances, and then Cas sighed heavily. "Brian is the Beast of the Apocalypse," he told their friend.

"Damien," Gabriel corrected him sarcastically. "He wants to be called Damien, now."

"Sam's son? Sam's son is the Beast of the Apocalypse?" Bobby said, shaking his head. "Are you guys nuts?"

"No, we're not, Bobby. It's true," Cas insisted.

"And besides, he's not Sam's son," Gail chipped in. "He's Vincent's."

"But Sam doesn't know that, or at least, he doesn't believe it, even though Gail tried to tell him," Cas said earnestly, and Bobby's neck was getting tired from going back and forth, and then back again.

"But Becky knows," Gail said angrily. "She's been passing him off as Sam's."

Bobby let out a frustrated breath. Great. Just great. "We're gonna hafta tell Sam, then," he said, frowning. "Convince him, somehow."

"That's not all we have to tell him," Gabriel remarked. "We also have to tell him that the kid has to die. As soon as possible."

Damien lay in the bed next to his mother, grinning. Becky was sound asleep. She'd had a big meal, and lots to drink. No one else at the celebration had been the wiser, as far as what the Angels were currently puzzling over went. But before the host and hostess had reluctantly invited the drop-ins to the Christmas feast, Gail had taken Rob aside and told him that he was going to have no choice but to tell Suzanne what their family was all about. There was no way they could keep on pretending. He'd swallowed hard, but acknowledged that she was right. So he'd invited his girlfriend for a walk outside. They'd been gone for a while, but they had come back still holding hands, although Suzanne had looked wide-eyed and pale.

Then they'd all had dinner as a family. When Rob and Suzanne had been on their walk, the adults had all been informed, one by one, that Damien was in fact Brian. And because of the way their family was, no one had doubted that for a moment. But there had been no talk of the Beast, or the Chosen One. It was Christmas, and unless Damien was planning to unleash the Apocalypse at the dinner table, the Angels had agreed amongst themselves to keep their mouths shut for now.

Dinner had been uneventful, and everyone had eaten well and had a good time.

So had Damien. Because none of the rest of the family know anything about his status as the Beast, they had treated him really nicely. Angela had sat beside him at the table, chattering a mile a minute, and Peter had made an attempt to teach Damien some of the space language he had invented. And Damien had just sat there eating heartily, and smiling at everyone.

And he was smiling now, because he knew exactly what those Angels were talking about in the kitchen. They were talking about killing him. Well, he wished them luck with that. He really did. Let them come for him. The Angel blade was nestled under his pillow.

The Beast of the Apocalypse drifted off to sleep, still grinning.

\- END OF BOOK 44. -


End file.
